Fly, Dragonfly

Explanations

I joined Mom and Gramps for breakfast the next morning. Mom was still on edge about Scott. "I could take down the servers and Cross wouldn't even know it." Mom explains. "We don't need this guy." "I assume that you've already met my daughter, Hope, Brenna's mother." Gramps said to Scott. "I did. She's great." Scott replied. "Mom doesn't think that we need you." I explained. "We don't. We can do this ourselves." Mom said. "We go to all this effort to let you steal my suit, and then Hope has you arrested." Gramps complained. "Okay, we can try this and when he fails, I'll do it myself." Mom groaned. "She's a little bit anxious. It has to do with this job, which judging by the fact that you're sitting opposite me, I take it that you're interested in." Gramps explained. "What job?" Scott asked. "I was very impressed by how you managed to get past the security system, Mr Lang." I replied. "Freezing that metal was particularly clever." "Were you watching me?" Scott asked. "Scott, we've been watching you for a while. Ever since you robbed Vista Corp." Gramps recalled. "Oh, excuse me. "Burgled" Vista Corp. Vista's security system was one of the most advanced in the business. It was supposed to be unbeatable. But you beat it." "How do you make them do that?" Scott asked, pointing at some ants handing me a peach. "Ants can lift objects 50 times their weight. They build, farm, they cooperate with each other." I explained. "Right, but how do you make them do that?" Scott asked. "Gramps uses electromagnetic waves to stimulate their olfactory nerve center." I explained. "I can go anywhere, hear anything, and see everything." Gramps added. "And still know absolutely nothing." Mom complained, leaving the table, but not before kissing my forehead. "I'm late to meet Cross." "Uh, Dr Pym?" Scott said, raising his hand. "You don't need to raise your hand, Scott." Gramps responded. "Sorry, I just have one question." Scott apologized. "Who are you? Who is she? Why is this child so smart? What the hell is going on and can I go back to jail now?" "Come with me." Gramps replied.

We went to Gramps' lab to explain everything to Scott. "40 years ago, I created a formula that altered atomic relative distance." Gramps explained. "Huh?" Scott wondered. "I learned how to change the distance between atoms. That's what powers the suit. That's why it works." Gramps continued. "But it was dangerous. It was too dangerous. So I hid it from the world. And that's when I switched gears and started my own company." "Pym Tech." Scott realized. "Yes." I said. "Gramps took on a young protege called Darren Cross." "Darren Cross. He's a big deal." Scott said. "But before he was a big deal, he was my assistant." Gramps explained. "I thought I saw something in him. The son I never had, perhaps. He was brilliant, but as we became close, he began to suspect that I wasn't telling him everything. He heard rumors about what was called the Pym Particle, and he became obsessed with recreating my formula. So he conspired against me and he voted me out of my own company." "How could he do that?" Scott wondered. "The board's chairman is my mother, Hope. She was the deciding vote." I replied. "But she came back to us when she saw how close Cross was to cracking the formula. And because of that shithead, I can't learn how to recreate the formula until I'm old enough." "The process is highly volatile. If one isn't protected by a specialized helmet, it can affect the brain's chemistry. I don't think Darren realizes this, and, you know, he's not the most stable guy to begin with." "So, what do you want from me?" Scott asked. "Scott, I believe that everyone deserves a shot at redemption. Do you?" I asked. "I do." He replied. "If you can help us, I promise we can help you be with your daughter again." Gramps explained. "Now, are you ready to redeem yourself?" "Absolutely." Scott replied with no hesitation. "My days of breaking into places and stealing shit are done. What do you want me to do?" "We want you to break into a place and steal some shit." I replied.