One week ago
Hank Pym's POV
It happened too quickly. One second, I was talking to my daughter; the next, an Avenger was in front of me, informing me that I was being targeted and that my life was in danger.
She was gone a heartbeat later, and suddenly, I found myself standing face-to-face with a man dressed in a devil costume: Daredevil. He was the leader of the Avengers. Nobody in the intelligence community knew much about them, except that their tech was sponsored by the enigma himself and that there used to be more of them.
One hadn't made it out of the last attack.
"Mr. Pym," Daredevil called to me.
My eyes traveled to his back, where two batons hovered telekinetically, and then to the rest of his armor. It was an overly designed suit of silver and matte-black metal with flexible paneling in between.
It was far too technical for my design sensibilities, but I supposed that hardly mattered if it did the job it was created for. The metal didn't look like vibranium or even adamantium. It was something new and powerful. And likely unique. Like my formulas.
"Can you please put your weapon away?" Daredevil said as a pulse of energy swept out from him. It was multicolored, and it mapped onto reality, surrounding our bench, and distorted the light coming in. It was like standing on the inside of a massive soap bubble.
It was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. My stomach did flips. It was one thing to see people hurl magical abilities at each other on the news; it was another to witness it in real life.
My grip on my gun only tightened.
"What was that barrier?" I demanded. "Take it down at once."
"The rest of Emma Frost's companions might target you immediately," he said coolly. "They're still in the area, but my team is taking care of that now."
Behind him, I saw Katana, the name the media had affectionately given to the girl who wielded the Japanese saber, open a rift in space that swallowed our attackers. Power Woman followed after, presumably to apprehend them.
"Dad," my daughter called, placing a hand on mine. "Let's hear him out."
Despite her words, Hope wasn't completely relaxed. She was ready to spring into action should the situation demand it, and so was I.
"I apologize for doing things like this," he said. "We would've preferred to warn you directly and avoid this whole fiasco, but we got the information that you were about to be attacked a few minutes ago."
"From who exactly?" I asked, narrowing my eyes. "Did you have me under surveillance?"
The low sigh escaping Daredevil's lips gave me my answer.
"Why?"
"I don't know for certain," Daredevil said. "Our... boss, Dante, has us monitoring a handful of people all over the world. Catalysts, he called you. He says you have the potential to save the planet or destroy it."
"So, he decided to invade our lives?" I growled at him, fishing for a reaction.
He frowned. "I don't approve of his methods either, but he's almost never wrong. He's the reason why Emma Frost didn't make it past your mental shield and stole your secrets."
It was my turn to frown. I had felt nothing from my neutralizer, but Daredevil didn't strike me as a liar.
"I can take care of myself," I pushed back, nonetheless.
"With the utmost respect, Dr. Pym, you can't," he said. "Not against an Alpha-level psychic."
I knew he was right, but I wasn't about to admit it. My daughter got a word out before I could dig further in.
"We're grateful," she said.
"We're happy to help," he nodded, then froze, his masked face cycling through a few emotions. "They escaped," he announced. "Wounded one of our Avengers. I'm afraid they're still at large. I can't take you home. Do you have a safehouse you can go to?"
Hope nodded.
"I will escort you there," he said. "And if you're up for it, my boss would like to meet you. He said to tell you that Janet is still alive. He said to tell you that there's another layer of reality beyond subatomic."
My mouth fell open, and Hope gripped my hand.
"Dad. What is he talking about?"
"I take it your answer is yes?" Daredevil said.
I nodded mutely.
--
Present
Dante's POV
Space bent around my vessels, slingshotting them ahead of Hanten's warships. He was the firstborn of Demonlord Pluto, a Grandmaster of space, time, light, and darkness.
The way the demons I've come across tell it, he used to be big cheese before Argossax the Chaos overthrew him, and then Mundus overthrew him. The two other demon lords that crossed over never quite got the opportunity to sit on the throne of Limbo, but they had allegedly been powerful enough to.
Pluto was the chillest of the demon lords by reputation. That meant he only enslaved, ate, and segregated the people he conquered. He didn't experiment with their souls, use them as soldiers, brand them, or do all of the other horrible stuff Mundus and Argossax relished in.
Hanten was even better than his father in some respects. He refused to take slaves at all, not because he had some twisted sense of morality. He just thought the collective species of the MCU were too weak and incompetent. If he weren't a Grandmaster in Darkness and Time and at the saturation stage, I would've laughed the asshole off.
His sisters were just as accomplished, all five of them. They all shared the Light element and were identical. God. I imagine that must be exhausting.
Believe it or not, Hanten and his sisters weren't the only reason why I was being cautious in my approach. Pluto's ships were famously good. Good enough to soundly thrash the Novans nearly every time they met them on the battlefield, even with lopsided numbers.
Their technology was no match for their demon-energy-infused ships and the uncountable runes etched into their weapon and defense systems. They could jump vast distances in space, turn completely invisible, blind surrounding ships, and rip opponents to bits with beams of energy that moved at near-light speed.
Yeah. Nightmare all around.
It was too bad they were up against somebody who was better at their own game.
"Alright, Manny," I said from behind the massive concealment bubble as I stood on the bridge of my mothership. "Let 'er rip."
Space flashed as a massive wave of psionic and dimensional energy washed over Hanten's vessels.
And then it was over.
A small army of over 100,000 was gone.
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