-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 became the hottest trending topic across all media platforms. News outlets scrambled to provide analysis, hot takes, and conspiracy theories. Social media exploded with arguments.
Many people immediately 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 America 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 something.
Then he nodded to show he was ready.
A massive fist came 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? Come 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 come you didn't react?" Scott asked, bewildered.
"No reaction," the man confirmed 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 immediately 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 something 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 me fooled at first. I assumed 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 time. 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 moment 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 immediately 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 time in three years. "Thanks for picking me 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 me," 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 me 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 time."
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 some people," Luis continued. "They've got great skills. We could—"
"Not interested," Scott cut him off.
"Come 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 met him in my life." Since he hadn't gone to prison in this timeline, 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 immediately recognized what this meant. Scott's status during the airport battle had been "wanted criminal." Which meant 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-
"Welcome 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 customer 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 customer let out an exaggerated sigh, as if this was all very difficult. "Then just give me whatever's hot and fresh out of the oven."
Scott spread his hands helplessly. "Dude."
"Lang! In my office! Now!" His manager—a man named 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.