Chapter 382: I Have a Friend
Batman descended the stairs one step at a time. The moment his foot touched the floor of the Pym Technologies building, the ground beneath him fractured and two trap mechanisms -- shaped like oversized bear traps -- snapped shut around him with a sharp metallic click.
Simultaneously, in all four directions, four weapon platforms materialized from nothing: an electromagnetic cannon, a conventional artillery piece, a sonic cannon, and a spectral cannon, each with a different bore and a different function, every barrel leveled at Batman's head in the same instant.
"Finally meeting you face to face." Hank Pym came out from between two of the cannons, chuckling, looking entirely pleased with himself as he watched Batman stand there caught.
"Sneaking in to steal whatever Pym Particles I have left? Trying to plant a virus in my Ultron robots? And what did you inject into my ants?"
Ant-Man propped an arm on the electromagnetic cannon and watched Batman's expression, which had not changed in the slightest.
"Thief. Criminal. Burglar. Villain. None of those words are strong enough for what you've been doing. I'm confident the International Security Council would be very happy to lock you away for a century or two."
Batman stood where he was. Whatever was happening below his chin showed no fear of the four barrels currently aimed at his head.
He reached out and pushed each barrel aside in turn. Then he glanced down at the traps holding his legs, lifted one foot, and gave a casual pull.
The mechanism -- rated to hold an adult male lion -- came apart in his hands like wet cardboard. He kicked the wreckage to one side.
Ant-Man's eye twitched. He suppressed the reflex to hit his suit's shrink control.
"These are S.H.I.E.L.D. weapons, aren't they?" Batman stepped clear of the four cannons and stood in front of Ant-Man. "You were gone for two weeks. That was a trip to S.H.I.E.L.D. to pick up artillery?"
"No." Ant-Man said.
Batman reached over, turned the sonic cannon around, and revealed the white eagle insignia of S.H.I.E.L.D. on the back panel. He said nothing. He just looked at Ant-Man.
Ant-Man held for two seconds, then hit a button on his suit with the air of a man letting the air out of a tire. All four cannons shrank to toy size. He pocketed them.
"What do you want?" He paced as he said it.
"I want to verify your allegiance. Determine whether you're an ally or an enemy." Batman said.
"You need to verify that? The ants, the robots, the Pym Particles -- is there anything in this building you haven't touched? Excluding Janet." Ant-Man's anger was building again despite himself. "So yes, we're enemies."
"I apologize." Batman said, with no particular expression.
"That means nothing." Ant-Man stared at him.
Batman considered it. Over the past two weeks he had in fact done considerable things to Ant-Man's Ultron robots and giant ants that warranted something stronger than a flat apology. He made a decision to move past the topic.
"I once had a friend who could shrink himself the same way you can. He could go all the way down to the subatomic level--"
"Stop. Stop right there."
Ant-Man cut him off bluntly, and this time the anger was genuine rather than performed.
"Who is this friend? Darren Cross? Rita DeMara?"
Both of those names belonged to people who had stolen Pym Particles during the Second World War and operated covertly for a period under the criminal identity of "the Yellowjacket." The fallout had been contained at the time with help from Captain America and a handful of others -- contained tightly enough that almost no one outside that circle knew it had happened.
The moment Batman mentioned having "a friend" with size-changing abilities, Ant-Man's mind went directly to those two.
Batman was already scanning his recollection of S.H.I.E.L.D. files for those names as he answered.
"Ryan Choi. The Atom."
"Never heard of him." Ant-Man gave a short, dismissive sound. "I can shrink to the subatomic level. Does that make me the Sub-Atomic Man?"
"Hank. Don't." A clear, pleasant voice came from the direction of the kitchen. Wasp -- Janet Van Dyne -- walked in carrying a tray with three cups of coffee.
The moment Janet set the tray down, Ant-Man picked up one of the cups and poured it down his throat like a shot of beer.
"Hank hasn't always been like this -- his temper has been getting worse recently. I'm sorry." Janet said to Batman.
"Be quiet, Janet." Ant-Man said to her, then turned back to Batman. "Now tell me what you actually want here. And then hand back the two vials of Pym Particles you stole."
He was counting the vial Lunella had taken as Batman's responsibility.
"Black Widow told me that S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury gave the order to have her detained." Batman said, watching the coffee's surface art as he spoke.
He let that sit for a moment.
"I believe Nick Fury is HYDRA."
The sentence landed. Both Ant-Man and Wasp went visibly still.
"So you think I'm HYDRA too." Ant-Man's fingers tightened around his coffee cup. His blue eyes fixed on Batman and didn't move.
Wasp's cup stayed raised halfway to her lips. Her gaze moved between the two men.
"Initially, yes. But I'm now ninety percent confident you're not."
Ant-Man's expression loosened fractionally despite himself.
"Why?"
Wasp took a quiet sip and set her concern down somewhere she could reach it less easily.
"Because all you care about is the Pym Particles," Batman said.
"If HYDRA recruited you, they'd inevitably try to weaponize your work. You wouldn't allow that." He let the logic speak for itself.
Ant-Man's face darkened. He wanted to argue. Nothing came to him.
Batman watched him. A normal person stirred by two or three pointed observations was understandable -- but Ant-Man's eyebrows were trembling. This wasn't someone brushing it off. This was real anger.
"Janet -- you said Hank's temper has been getting worse recently. How recently?"
Batman turned away from Ant-Man entirely and addressed Wasp instead.
Janet thought about it.
"About two weeks ago."
"A psychological issue?"
"To hell with psychological issues -- this is about the Pym Particles you stole!" Ant-Man slammed his cup down. "Give them back!"
Then something unexpected happened. Where Ant-Man had spent the entire conversation waiting for Batman to deflect or delay, Batman instead answered without a moment's pause.
"Fine."
A beat of silence.
"In two weeks. I'll return both vials to you personally."
Ant-Man laughed without humor.
"One month to analyze them and make copies. Go ahead -- I'll give you a month."
***
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