Blaine hovered in mid-air, both speechless and amused. Scott really was too unlucky. As a thief, he had failed far too many times…
The place Blaine was watching from—if he remembered correctly—was Scott's ex-wife's home. Today should be his daughter's birthday party. Cross had probably chosen this moment because he wanted to vent his anger on the child Scott loved most.
Just as Scott was handcuffed and shoved into a police car, Cross seemed to snap awake. He jumped off the streetlamp and flew straight into the little girl's room.
Blaine saw everything clearly. Even though he had planted a spiritual seed and could kill Cross at any moment, that wasn't his goal. Not yet. Cross wouldn't die until he fully understood the cruelty of the world.
The police sirens outside were loud enough for the people in the house to hear. Because Scott's ex-wife's current husband disliked him, he didn't react at all when the police took Scott away right at their doorstep.
But Scott's ex-wife—having once shared a life with him and knowing he was still the father of her child—ran out to plead with the police, trying to convince them to let him go.
Just as Cross darted upstairs, Scott saw him. The officers guarding him didn't want to give him any chance to escape, but with his ex-wife distracting them, Scott seized the moment. He pressed the button, dropped into insect size, pulled the mask over his face, and hurried after Cross.
The room upstairs was indeed his daughter's. The little girl was startled by the sudden appearance of a man in a strange, yellow-armored suit. But she was innocent enough not to be terrified.
"Hey, don't even think about running,"
A calm, cold voice sounded behind Cross just as he stepped toward the child.
He turned and saw a man in black—long cloak, hood, arms crossed. He couldn't see the man's face or eyes clearly, but he unmistakably felt like prey being stared down by a beast.
"You… you're the legendary Bounty Hunter."
Cross's voice trembled.
He had never wanted to provoke the Bounty Hunter. But after thinking it over, he decided no one else carried this much intimidation value. The house in Queens had been funded and built by Tony—and had recently been bombed. Cross thought he could bluff his way through by impersonating the Bounty Hunter.
What he didn't know was that Blaine hadn't been home that day—something Cross had confirmed ahead of time. He assumed the house was empty, so he dared to act recklessly. He never expected the real Bounty Hunter to appear in front of him.
"So you know me," Blaine said. "Looks like you've heard my name."
"In that case, you must be ready to die."
His voice dropped to an icy whisper. If Cross hadn't known who he was, Blaine could've excused it. But knowingly provoking him was unforgivable.
"Oh, I'm the one dying?" Cross let out a shaky laugh. "Maybe the famous Bounty Hunter will die in my hands today. Hahaha…"
A moment ago, Cross might've been afraid. But now he remembered he was wearing the Yellowjacket suit. With the suit, he believed he had the world in his hands. Why should he fear anyone? Who would win today was anyone's guess.
"I don't know who gave you the courage," Blaine said, laughing in disbelief. He silently cursed Cross and decided there was no need for more words.
His figure blurred. In a cramped room like this, he covered the distance instantly. His hand clamped down on Cross's shoulder and pressed lightly.
A sharp crack followed. The shoulder was done.
A comminuted fracture—Blaine's version of mercy. He wanted Cross to understand exactly what it meant to provoke someone he shouldn't have.
"Mmmnnnghhh—!"
Cross howled under the mask, though it was muffled. Any normal person would have screamed the same if their arm was crushed alive.
"Hmph. This is just the beginning."
Blaine's cold snort didn't waver, even with a child watching everything.
Just as Blaine raised his hand to crush the other arm… Cross vanished.
No—he didn't vanish. He shrank. Blaine knew because the spiritual seed still pulsed nearby. If not for soul tracking, he would've thought Cross could teleport.
Now Blaine understood. Earlier, in the lab, Cross had kept changing size, big to small and back. That was why the paper crane's tracking kept flickering in and out.
As Blaine considered his next move, the danger sense in his mind flared. His abdomen tingled sharply.
"Ambushing me?"
Blaine raised a brow. With his danger sense active, Cross couldn't hide anything.
"Fine. Since you shrank, I can't hit you properly," Blaine murmured. "So I'll copy your ability instead."
The idea struck him like lightning. Why not? This was the perfect chance to learn.
Sure, Blaine could kill Cross even while tiny—crush him with a single hit, shoot him with an arrow, or detonate the spiritual seed. But that would end the torture prematurely. And Blaine wasn't done. If Cross had a technique to change size, then Blaine would simply copy it and play the same game.
He activated his technique immediately. The pentagram array in his eyes spun as he opened the Copy Eye, analyzing the composition, structure, and nature of Cross's Ant-Man abilities.
But the excitement quickly faded. As the array spun faster and faster, Blaine's brows drew together.
No matter how long he analyzed it, there was no sign of Cross slowing down. The shrinking mechanism wasn't unraveling the way it should.
"Huh? What's going on?"
"Is the ability to grow and shrink the body freely actually a Universe-level power?"
"Otherwise why is it this hard to analyze?"
Blaine couldn't understand. Ordinary people could control this ability. How could it resist his analysis? Even beings like Dormammu and Galactus had never caused this kind of issue.
Could it be… his Copy Eye was malfunctioning?
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