Hank Pym was both a genius and a deeply unlucky man.
He possessed a superhuman intellect, having developed Pym Particles that even the legendary Howard Stark couldn't replicate. But fortune had never smiled kindly upon him.
In his youth, he'd suffered a bitter falling out with S.H.I.E.L.D. over the very Pym Particles that had made him famous. His beloved wife, Janet, had sacrificed herself to prevent a catastrophic missile detonation by shrinking to the subatomic level and disabling it from within.
Hank had lost the love of his life, and worse still, his daughter Hope resented him with a passion that cut deeper than any blade. Her hatred ran so deep that she hadn't hesitated to orchestrate his removal from the board of directors, using his own protégé as the weapon against him.
For Hank, the greatest torment wasn't professional failure but the twin agonies of losing his wife and becoming estranged from his only child. Despite controlling the most powerful technology on Earth, he was condemned to live alone in a house that felt more like a mausoleum of memories.
Today, for the first time in months, he received an unexpected message from his daughter. It concerned his former student, the ambitious and increasingly dangerous Darren Cross.
Darren had finally succeeded in replicating the shrinking technology, and soon the results that belonged exclusively to Pym Particles would become someone else's intellectual property.
Hope's relationship with her father remained strained and bitter, but she couldn't bear the thought of Pym Technologies falling into the wrong hands.
"We need to stop him," Hope said after returning home, her voice tight with controlled emotion. "Your way."
"No, that approach won't work," Hank replied, his eyes flickering with barely concealed anxiety as he looked at his daughter. "We have better alternatives."
Hope took a deep breath, struggling to maintain her composure. "This is the fastest method available to us. He's about to complete his research. In six months at most, he will have perfected the replication process."
"I don't know what Wick brought him, but ever since that man appeared, Cross's research has advanced by leaps and bounds."
Wick.
Hearing that name, Hank Pym felt a chill of recognition. He remembered the mysterious shareholder who had appeared seemingly from nowhere.
Under the relentless coverage of magazines and news outlets, Wick's true identity was no longer secret. If it wasn't absolutely necessary, Hank had no desire to confront such a powerful adversary.
This wasn't just about Darren Cross or even Pym Technologies anymore. This involved a true behemoth—Tarasov Industries.
More importantly, beneath the Wick name lay a vast underground power alliance that operated with tacit government approval. Even when S.H.I.E.L.D. had been at the height of its power, they had only observed the Wicks and never dared to interfere.
This demonstrated the immense influence that name represented.
Darren's goal was to weaponize shrinking technology, creating military suits to sell to the highest-bidding arms dealers. But dealing with the puppet master behind Darren was far too complex and dangerous. Hank couldn't bear the thought of his daughter taking such risks.
His wife had been lost because of the Ant-Man suit. He refused to let his daughter suffer the same fate.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, he understood he needed a successor—someone to complete this dangerous mission. But it absolutely could not be Hope.
His refusal ignited Hope's fury. In her eyes, this was nothing more than her father's sexist assumption that she was too weak because she was a woman.
The conversation ended badly, with both father and daughter more estranged than ever.
Cross's Private Winery
Darren Cross analyzed the blood sample with his state-of-the-art equipment, his eyes widening with astonishment as he looked at John, who was casually studying the liquid in his wine glass.
"What exactly is this substance?"
John didn't bother drinking the expensive Lafite, setting it down with casual indifference. "Blood from an extraterrestrial species."
"Incredible," Darren breathed, his scientific mind racing. As a doctor with exceptional talent, he was genuinely amazed. "The cellular structure is completely different from human blood. It contains specialized genetic markers."
"It can replicate and mimic other genetic codes for perfect camouflage."
Darren felt as though he was stepping through a doorway into an entirely new world. Of course, he knew aliens existed in their reality. The Chitauri invasion during the Battle of New York, Thor's dramatic arrival from Asgard, and the Dark Elves' recent appearance in London had made that abundantly clear.
Among all these alien species, this bottle of azure blood didn't possess their overwhelming physical strength, but it held something potentially more valuable—the ability to assume perfect disguises.
Setting aside his initial shock, Darren leaned forward intently. "What do you want me to accomplish with this?"
"Are you familiar with the Chitauri?" John's eyebrow arched with knowing significance. "They're essentially bio-mechanical soldiers—living weapons designed for war."
"I watch the news religiously," Darren replied, settling onto the sofa beside John and pouring himself a generous glass of Lafite. He smiled with bitter irony. "I once attempted to acquire Chitauri weapons through black market channels, but unfortunately, those materials are completely monopolized."
After speaking, he suddenly remembered that it wasn't just Stark Industries monopolizing Chitauri technology—Tarasov Industries, the very company represented by the man sitting beside him, controlled a significant portion of that market as well.
John nodded approvingly. "Since they can modify living organisms, why couldn't you replicate biological genetics onto a technological suit?"
Darren stared at him as if he were speaking in riddles, then laughed with genuine amusement. "It's an ingenious concept, but with our current technological limitations, even possessing such genetic material, creating that kind of bio-suit remains impossible."
"Mr. Wick, I'm not trying to be pessimistic, but what you're describing involves cutting-edge technology from multiple scientific fields that human science simply cannot achieve yet."
John remained calm, completely unfazed by the dismissal. "Nanotechnology."
"What?" Darren paused mid-sip, looking confused. "Unfortunately, current nanotechnology lacks that level of precision."
"You need a master weaver," John said, caressing his ornate ring thoughtfully. "The Regeneration Cradle can provide exactly what you require."
"The Regeneration Cradle?" Darren hesitated, clearly unfamiliar with the term. "What exactly is that?"
"Revolutionary technology that employs nanotechnology for complete human tissue repair and reconstruction," John explained, raising his wine glass in a casual gesture. "Anything repaired by this device would be so perfect that even your closest lover wouldn't detect any difference. It's the world's most precise 'weaver' of biological matter."
Darren was absolutely stunned. If he could access such technology, he could revolutionize the entire field of nanotechnology overnight.
His eyes blazed with scientific hunger. "Where can I find it? No, wait—how much would it cost?"
"We shouldn't discuss something as crude as money between partners," John said with calculated meaning. "I'm not lacking in financial resources, but I am in need of a reliable ally, Darren."
Understanding the implications perfectly, Darren considered for exactly three seconds before raising his own wine glass with newfound determination.
"Of course, we don't need such formalities between us, Mr. Wick."
John smiled with deep satisfaction. "To our partnership and mutual success."
Darren understood completely that from this moment forward, he could only stand beside Wick. There was no middle ground, no neutrality—only absolute loyalty.
He raised his glass and drank deeply, sealing their alliance.
A brilliant scientific mind could only be truly conquered through superior knowledge and resources. Unfortunately for Darren Cross, John Wick possessed both in abundance.
John had sought out Darren not merely because he was a shareholder in Pym Technologies. More importantly, Darren was a genius scientist without the moral constraints that limited men like Tony Stark and Bruce Banner.
A man willing to create militarized shrinking technology to sell to arms dealers for pure profit operated by a simple code—ethics came second to personal gain.
Meanwhile, at Avengers Tower
After the two men sealed their agreement with raised glasses, the party in New York was winding down to a more intimate gathering.
The crowds of guests had departed after hours of celebration, leaving only the Avengers and their closest friends behind. This had become a private party among Earth's Mightiest Heroes.
"That's definitely complete nonsense," Clint Barton declared, sprawled across the sofa in an undignified position, clearly affected by the evening's alcohol consumption. He pointed dramatically at Thor's hammer resting on the coffee table. "Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor."
"No matter how you phrase it, it's obviously a lie."
Thor simply smiled at the accusation, radiating supreme confidence. "Everyone, please feel free to attempt it."
Barton blinked in surprise. "Seriously?"
Thor wouldn't dream of taking offense at such harmless skepticism.
Barton immediately stood up, swaying slightly. "Alright then!"
The Avengers' hammer-lifting contest began in earnest. The scene bore an amusing resemblance to the gathering in New Mexico years earlier.
Barton went first, grabbing the handle with one hand and pulling with confident determination. Mjolnir didn't budge even a millimeter.
Tony stepped up as the second contestant. As a man of science and perpetual sarcasm, he couldn't resist commentary. "If I manage to lift it, do I rule Asgard? Because I'd immediately reinstate prima nocta."
He gripped the handle with both hands and strained mightily. Like Barton before him, he achieved absolutely nothing.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Tony held up one finger. "Hold on just a second."
When he returned, he was wearing a repulsori-powered gauntlet from his armor. Even with mechanical assistance and his suit's thrusters providing additional force, the hammer remained immovable.
After watching Tony's failure, Rhodes joined the battle. The two of them working together couldn't shift the hammer even slightly.
Banner decided to give it an honest attempt as well. He couldn't lift it in human form, and everyone agreed there was no point in letting the Hulk try to smash it.
Finally, it was Steve's turn. Thor watched his teammates' efforts with casual amusement and growing confidence.
Steve approached respectfully, gripped the handle with both hands, and pulled steadily. A subtle but distinct sound made Thor's smile falter momentarily.
Fortunately for the God of Thunder, Steve didn't actually lift Mjolnir, allowing Thor's grin to return triumphantly.
The Asgardian prince, who had nearly lost his divine claim to worthiness, stepped forward and effortlessly lifted his hammer with one hand.
"None of you are worthy," he announced with theatrical smugness.
His show-off behavior drew good-natured boos from the entire group.
Thor basked in their mock disapproval, thoroughly enjoying himself.
Suddenly, harsh electronic noise filled the room, causing everyone to wince and cover their ears.
"Worthy?"
A damaged, staggering figure emerged from the shadows. Exposed wires wrapped around its makeshift body like technological veins.
The being was constructed entirely from parts of Tony's Iron Legion, a patchwork creation of scavenged metal and circuitry.
"No, how could any of you possibly be worthy?"
Its voice carried a chilling mixture of curiosity and condemnation. "You're all killers."
This disturbing apparition immediately put everyone on high alert.
Steve instinctively called for Tony's attention, while Tony frantically tried to contact JARVIS through his systems.
He had no way of knowing that JARVIS had been completely severed from all networks the moment this new consciousness had been born.
The pieced-together robot standing before them was, in a very real sense, the offspring of Tony Stark's greatest creation.
Its name was Ultron.