"Hope, what're you up to?"
Ignoring the "No Entry" sign, Artoria had Saturday open Hope's lab. The place looked ransacked. She called out twice, curious where on Earth Hope had gone.
"Bzz—bzz—bzz—!"
"Flies in a place like this? Impossible."
A lightning slap swatted the "fly" aside. Artoria's speed and strength left the insect no time to react. With the annoying buzz gone, she circled the room but found no sign of Hope—yet instinct told her someone was here. Strange.
"Pym Particles? I'll borrow those two vials."
Stepping over scattered junk and books, Artoria spotted two racks of red-and-blue test tubes on the desk. She pocketed one rack for Saturday to analyze—Hope probably wouldn't mind. So thinking, she left with her "loot." With Hope's "protagonist luck," nothing bad would happen—probably.
"Cough—damn you, Artoria."
Moments after Artoria left, the swatted "fly" ballooned into a woman in a yellow battlesuit with twin pairs of wings. Helmet off, it was Hope. She hadn't meant to hide; the experiment had succeeded so well she'd forgotten how to enlarge. Flying to Artoria for help, she'd been slapped instead—nearly killed her. Yet the blow restored her size.
"That girl took the Pym Particles—no way, they're too dangerous for her."
Stripping off the suit, Hope tidied the lab, then noticed a missing rack. If mishandled, those particles could trap a user in the Quantum Realm forever. She locked the lab and raced after Artoria.
"Good stuff—really good stuff. With this, my Ultraman dream's no fantasy."
Back in her office, Artoria examined the red-and-blue vials. Ant-Man, an ordinary man, could swell to ten-odd meters; with her vast mana-fed cells, could she hit fifty? Theoretically—though she might pop like a balloon.
"Pym Particles plus a fifty-percent-success-rate Sentinel Serum—what happens? If it goes right, invincible. If wrong, dead silent. Might even meet Thanos's sweetheart, the Goddess of Death."
"Whatever the result, I can't wait."
Holding three vials—red, blue, purple for enlarge, shrink, unknown energy—Artoria marveled at the chemical drama they might stage.
"Artoria, you little brat—hand over the Pym Particles!"
"I—"
The door burst open, startling her. She fumbled the vials into the air, but lightning reflexes saved them; she caught all three.
"What's the fuss? You nearly scared me to death. Relax, they're right here."
Calming her racing heart, Artoria waved the vials at Hope.
"You know what happens if these are misused?"
"Give them to me—now."
This was no joke—Hope had been terrified. She'd seen what that thing could do: turn a lamb into a smear of meat paste. After countless trials she'd finally succeeded, and she wasn't denying Artoria access—only insisting it happen under her supervision. She couldn't bear the thought of anything happening to the girl who'd captured her heart.
'All right, I get it. Don't worry, I won't test it on myself. I just wanted to analyze it. I couldn't find you earlier, so I let Saturday take a look.'
Knowing Hope's nature, Artoria understood the concern and didn't insist on running her own experiment. If Hope wanted the vial back, she'd hand it over.
'Forget it, you keep it. Here are the safety notes—just promise me you'll never test it on a human. That's the line, understood, Artoria?'
Hope stared at the two capsules of red-and-blue particles, then at Artoria. In the end she didn't take them; she'd always meant to share the discovery. Her outburst had only been fear for Artoria's safety.
'Really? Then I'll take them.'
At Hope's words Artoria quickly tucked both tubes between her breasts—perfectly concealed. Hope felt the sting: affection aside, Envy outweighed arousal for someone still stuck at a B-cup. She glanced at Artoria's curves, then down at her own feet—visible without obstruction. Too far.
'Take them and get lost, you alien boob-monster.'
Burning with jealousy, Hope shot one last glare at Artoria's chest and dropped the subject of Pym Particles. Right now she wanted to slice those offending mounds into sandwich bread; Artoria's very existence mocked every woman below a D-cup.
'I'll invent a breast-enhancement breakthrough and make you eat your words, Artoria.'
That was the thought Hope carried out the slammed door. Artoria, however, had a bigger problem: while storing the Pym Particles she'd already slipped a Sentinel vial inside. Now, pressed between her breasts, the three containers cracked under the weight.
Artoria peeled open her top—only glass shards remained.
'Should've bought domestic; this quality is trash.'
She brushed the fragments away. They couldn't pierce her skin, but they were still irritating.
The chemicals had vaporized without a trace; not even dampness remained. Artoria winced—these had cost a fortune. No matter: the research staff were hers, so restocking was easy. She didn't notice the three solutions had fused into a single golden droplet that sank into her heart, merging flawlessly with the Dragon Factor. She felt nothing—yet. In time she would.
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