-Present Day-
While the Avengers discussed the implications of Pym Particles and quantum physics, the outside world had erupted into chaos over the revelation from 1989.
Howard Stark stealing Hank Pym's research beca the hottest trending topic across all dia platforms. News outlets scrambled to provide analysis, hot takes, and conspiracy theories. Social dia exploded with argunts.
Many people imdiately condemned Howard as a fraud who'd built his reputation on stolen work. Protesters gathered outside Avengers headquarters, holding signs reading "STARK = THIEF" and "JUSTICE FOR PYM."
Rhodes glanced down at the growing crowd from the common room window. "Looks like public opinion has already decided your father's guilty."
Tony's expression was dismissive, but his jaw was tight. "They don't understand anything. They never do. But I will get to the bottom of this."
"Howard wasn't that kind of man," Captain Arica said firmly, his belief in his old friend's character absolute. "I knew him. He had his flaws, but stealing another scientist's work? That wasn't one of them."
The broadcast shifted, pulling their attention back.
-Broadcast: San Quentin State Prison-
Scott Lang appeared on screen, surrounded by a circle of prisoners. He was taking deep breaths, psyching himself up for sothing.
Then he nodded to show he was ready.
A massive fist ca out of nowhere and connected with his face. The punch was powerful, deliberate—Scott staggered backward several steps, nearly falling before catching his balance.
"Feel good?! Feel good?!" A large Black prisoner taunted, bouncing on his feet. "You want another taste? Co on! Again!"
Scott suddenly lunged forward, trying to tackle the man around the waist and take him to the ground.
But his opponent was far stronger. He threw Scott off easily, sending him stumbling into the ring of surrounding prisoners. They shoved him back into the center.
Scott gritted his teeth and threw a punch at the man's chest. It connected solidly—and had absolutely no effect. The man didn't even flinch. Scott shook out his hand, wincing.
The prisoner looked at him calmly. "You feel that?"
"How co you didn't react?" Scott asked, bewildered.
"No reaction," the man confird with a slight smile.
"Okay, what if I go for the leg?" Scott pointed down at the man's knee. "You see that spot right there?"
The prisoner looked down, following Scott's finger—
Scott imdiately punched him in the face.
The man's head snapped to the side. He touched the corner of his mouth with one finger, checking for blood. Then he slowly turned back with a huge grin. "I'm gonna miss you, Scott!"
The entire atmosphere changed instantly. Scott stepped forward and shook his hand warmly. "I'll miss you too, Peachy! Your farewell ceremonies are sothing else."
"Alright, everyone clear out!" Peachy called. The circle of prisoners dispersed, several of them coming forward to shake Scott's hand or pull him into brief hugs.
"See that?" Peachy bragged to the others. "I really worked that kid over good!"
-Present Day-
"I thought they were actually fighting," First-Generatio Peter Parker said, relieved. "But it was just a weird prison goodbye ritual."
First-Generation Gwen nodded. "Yeah, definitely had fooled at first. I assud they had beef."
-
Scott Lang stared at the screen in complete confusion. "When did I go to prison? I've never been to prison!"
Because the broadcast had revealed the Vistacorp heist before he could commit it, Scott had been caught and given community service instead of jail ti. He didn't recognize any of these prisoners.
-Broadcast: Prison Release-
The scene shifted. Scott walked out of San Quentin State Prison wearing civilian clothes, a small backpack over his shoulder, two band-aids on his eyebrow from Peachy's "farewell gift." Two guards escorted him to the main gate.
The mont he stepped through to freedom, a voice called out: "Scott! What's up, man! Oh my God!"
Luis—Scott's cellmate and best friend—had been waiting in his van, and he imdiately jumped out to greet him.
"Hey, man!" Scott's face lit up with genuine joy as he pulled Luis into a hug.
"What happened to your eye?"
"Oh, you know—Peachy's going-away present."
"Yeah!" Luis laughed. "The scar I got last year is still there!" He pointed to a small mark on his own eyebrow.
Scott leaned in to look. "Oh yeah, I see it."
As they walked toward the van, Luis boasted, "You know what? I'm still the only guy who's ever knocked him down."
"Well, I definitely couldn't pull that off," Scott admitted.
The van drove along a winding mountain road, leaving the prison behind. Scott looked out the window, breathing free air for the first ti in three years. "Thanks for picking up, brother."
Luis waved it off. "A cellmate's getting out? How could I not be here?"
"So, uh—how's your girl doing?" Scott asked cautiously.
"She left ," Luis said matter-of-factly.
"Oh. Man, I'm sorry—"
"Yeah, and my mom died too. And my dad got deported."
Scott fell silent, not knowing what to say to that litany of tragedy.
But Luis wasn't dwelling on it. He held up two fingers with a grin. "But I got the van!"
Scott caught the hint and nodded appreciatively. "It's a nice van."
"Right?!"
"Thanks for helping get settled," Scott said. "I was worried about where I'd stay."
"Wait till you see the couch! You're gonna love it, man. You'll get your rhythm back in no ti."
Scott's smile was uncertain. "I hope so." The truth was, he felt completely lost. No job, no prospects, a criminal record that would follow him forever.
"Seriously though, I want to introduce you to so people," Luis continued. "They've got great skills. We could—"
"Not interested," Scott cut him off.
"Co on—"
"No, Luis. I'm serious. I don't want to go back inside."
The smile faded from Luis's face.
"I've got a daughter to take care of," Scott said quietly. "I need to go straight."
"It's not easy for an ex-con to find work, man."
"I know. But listen—I have a Master's degree in Electrical Engineering, okay? I can find a legitimate job."
-Present Day-
"Who's this Luis guy?" Natasha asked. "He seems like good people."
Scott shook his head. "No idea. I've never t him in my life." Since he hadn't gone to prison in this tiline, their paths had never crossed.
Elsewhere in San Francisco, Luis was staring at a television screen in a sports bar, watching himself appear in the broadcast. "Oh my God! I'm on TV! I'm on the— oh crap. Oh crap."
He imdiately recognized what this ant. Scott's status during the airport battle had been "wanted criminal." Which ant whatever he and Scott ended up doing together... it wasn't legal.
"I gotta get out of here," Luis muttered, throwing cash on the bar and making for the exit before anyone could recognize him from the broadcast.
-Broadcast: Baskin-Robbins-
"Welco to Baskin-Robbins!" Scott stood behind the counter in a pink and brown uniform, his employee smile firmly in place. "Would you like to try our Mango Fruit Blast?"
A young custor looked around the ice cream shop with apparent confusion. "Uh... no thanks. Can I get a cheeseburger?"
Scott blinked. "We... we don't sell those here."
"Pretzels then. Hot pretzels. You got mustard?"
Scott couldn't help but laugh. "This is an ice cream shop. Baskin-Robbins."
The custor let out an exaggerated sigh, as if this was all very difficult. "Then just give whatever's hot and fresh out of the oven."
Scott spread his hands helplessly. "Dude."
"Lang! In my office! Now!" His manager—a man nad Dale—called from the back.
"Coming!" Scott called back. He gestured to a coworker. "Darby, can you handle this genius? Thanks."
He had no idea what was coming. No idea that his attempt at going straight was about to fall apart spectacularly.
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