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"Hank!"
Darren Cross spat the name like venom, his teeth clenched and his voice dripping with unrestrained fury. His entire body trembled with rage, his mind consumed by the audacity of what had just occurred.
Without a moment's hesitation, he turned to his loyal entourage—henchmen who knew better than to question his orders when he was in such a state.
"You lot, with me!" he barked, his tone sharp and commanding.
Not waiting to see if they followed, Darren stormed out of the Future Lab, his footsteps echoing with purpose and fury. His men fell into step behind him, their expressions grim and tense, fully aware that their employer was ready for confrontation.
The destination?
Hope Van Dyne's office.
If Hank Pym was behind this, Hope, his daughter and trusted confidant, was bound to know something. And Darren intended to get answers—by any means necessary.
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In her sleek, modern office, Hope was calmly coordinating her schedule with her assistant.
"Katherine, I can't meet with Mr. Smith this afternoon. Please reschedule for—"
*Bang!*
The office door slammed open with a deafening crash, causing Hope to flinch slightly.
Startled, she turned toward the source of the commotion. Darren Cross stormed in, his face twisted with fury, followed closely by a group of stone-faced men. Their collective presence radiated hostility, more akin to enforcers than corporate associates.
Even Katherine, Hope's unshakable assistant, felt her nerves waver. She had never seen Darren Cross—the polished, smooth-talking CEO—look so utterly unhinged.
"Mr. Cross?" Katherine stammered, her voice quivering as she instinctively stepped back.
"Out," Darren snapped, his voice cold and cutting, leaving no room for argument.
Hope raised a hand subtly, signaling Katherine to comply. "Leave us," she said, her tone steady and calm.
Katherine hesitated for the briefest moment before nodding and scurrying out, visibly relieved to escape the volatile atmosphere. Once the door clicked shut, silence hung heavy in the room, broken only by the faint hum of the air conditioning.
Hope turned to face Darren, her expression calm and unbothered. She leaned casually against her desk, tilting her head slightly as though Darren's dramatic entrance was nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
"What's this about, Darren?" she asked, her tone feigning curiosity, a calculated nonchalance in her voice.
"Don't play dumb with me, Hope!" he snarled, slamming his palm onto her desk with enough force to rattle the items on it. His glare burned with unrestrained rage. "You think I'm blind? You think I don't know what you and your father have been up to?" he spat, his voice rising. "The whole 'loyal board member' routine? Lies! Every single bit of it!"
Hope raised an eyebrow, her face betraying nothing. Her voice was calm but firm as she responded, "I have no idea what you're accusing me of."
"Enough with the lies!" Darren thundered, his voice echoing through the room. "I've known all along that you were in on this! You and Hank—plotting, scheming, stealing the Yellowjacket Suit right out from under me! I allowed it to play out because I wanted to see just how far you'd go. But now? You've pushed me too far!"
"Steal it?" Hope countered, her tone laced with cold defiance. "That suit belongs to my father. We weren't stealing but taking back what's rightfully ours."
Darren's expression twisted in anger. He turned sharply to one of his henchmen and motioned with a quick gesture. Without hesitation, the man handed him a sleek, black pistol. Darren took it and aimed it directly at Hope, his eyes narrowing with a deadly calm.
"This ends here and now," Darren said, his voice low and threatening. "Tell me where the suit is, or I'll make you talk."
Though her heart was racing, Hope's exterior remained calm and composed. She took a deliberate step backward, and her movements were measured. The wall was just a few paces away, and she positioned herself carefully.
"You'll never find it, Darren," she said evenly, her voice tinged with quiet determination. "It's somewhere you'll never be able to reach."
Darren's lips curled into a mocking sneer. "Big words for someone who's outnumbered and completely outgunned," he retorted, his tone dripping with contempt. He waved his hand sharply, signaling his men to move. Two of them stepped forward, their intent clear as they advanced on Hope, ready to restrain her.
But Hope had been waiting for this moment.
In a blur of motion, she struck. With a well-placed kick to the first man's knee, she sent him sprawling to the ground, clutching his leg in agony. The second man barely had time to react before Hope spun and drove her elbow into his jaw with a sickening crack. He stumbled backward and collapsed in a heap beside his companion.
The remaining henchmen froze for a split second, their shock evident. But their training kicked in, and they quickly drew their weapons, aiming them squarely at Hope.
But Hope only offered a sly smirk, her confidence unwavering despite the escalating tension. "Sorry, Darren. It's been fun, but I've got more important things to do."
Before anyone could react, she bolted toward the wall.
For a moment, Darren and his men stood frozen, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief. 'Was she seriously about to slam into the wall? Had desperation clouded her judgment?'
Then, the impossible happened.
As Hope's body touched the wall, ripples radiated outward, the solid surface behaving like liquid disturbed by a pebble. In an instant, she disappeared, swallowed entirely by the shimmering wall.
"What in the...?" one of Darren's henchmen muttered, his voice barely audible, his hands trembling as he clutched his weapon.
Darren stood stunned, his jaw slack, struggling to process what he had just witnessed. For the first time, his unshakable confidence faltered.
"Magic?!" he finally burst out, the word escaping in a disbelieving, almost hysterical tone.
The wall settled, the ripples fading as quickly as they had appeared. Within seconds, it was as if nothing had happened—no sign of Hope, no indication of how she had vanished.
Darren's mind churned with emotions—rage at her escape, bewilderment at the seemingly supernatural nature of her departure, and a grudging respect for her resourcefulness.
"She's even more dangerous than I gave her credit for," he muttered through gritted teeth, his hands tightening around the pistol until his knuckles turned white.
Though Hope had managed to outmaneuver him this time, Darren vowed it would be the last. Whatever she and Hank Pym were scheming, Darren Cross would stop at nothing to crush their plans—and reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.
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Next Chapter: The Ultimate Trump Card—The Devil Fruit Family Group Chat!
Next Next Chapter: Hydra Agents in S.H.I.E.L.D.?
Next Next Next Chapter: Tony Stark's Driver, Happy: I've Turned into a Dog?!
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