Chapter 82: Scotron

Scott Lang was in a foul mood. Today, he had been fired from the ice cream shop—his fifth job so far. Because he had a prison record, any time an employer found out about his history, he was immediately dismissed.

Scott was utterly disheartened, unsure whether he should keep searching for work or figure out some other way to get by. He returned to his lodgings, which belonged to his friend Luis, who’d let him stay for a while.

“Scott, why are you back? Weren’t you at work?” Luis asked, surprised to see him return.

“I went to work, but I got fired again,” Scott said, deeply dejected.

“Damn! Did they find out who you are?” Luis asked.

“Yes,” Scott replied, his head hung low.

“Baskin-Robbins always finds out,” Luis consoled him.

“Oh, right—this is Kurt. He did five years in Folsom Prison, and he’s a computer genius!” Luis introduced his partner to Scott.

“And who are you?” Scott asked another dark-skinned man.

“I’m Dave! That Vista Company job was brilliant,” Dave praised Scott.

“Vista Company gouged customers at sky-high prices, right? It added up to millions. Scott exposed them and got fired. Then he hacked their security system, transferred the money back to the ripped-off clients, and published all the bank transaction records online…” Luis recounted Scott’s heroic deeds.

“What’s with you? Why are you telling people about my business? What are you up to?” Scott eyed Luis warily.

“Well, my cousin talked to them. There’s a really sweet gig that needs your help,” Luis said.

“No way! I’m done with all that,” Scott refused decisively.

…

On Sunday, Scott went to his ex-wife’s house for his daughter’s birthday party, only to be kicked out by his ex-wife and her fiancé. She said he had to pay child support before he could come, otherwise he’d never see his daughter Cassie again.

Scott looked helplessly at his adorable daughter. He needed a job. He needed money!

He sat alone in his car for a long time, calculating the child support he owed. He would need a whole year of work before he could see his daughter again. He sighed, finally making up his mind.

Scott returned to his lodgings, drank a beer, and told Luis, “Tell me how this job works.”

“What?” Luis thought he’d misheard. Scott had finally come around and agreed to the plan.

Luis explained in detail where he’d gotten the tip: an old retired man had a massive safe at home, and he’d be away for a week. It was a heaven-sent opportunity!

Scott understood and decided to act that very night—before anything could go wrong.

…

Arthur followed Dr. Pym into his laboratory.

Dr. Pym’s villa was truly impressive, filled with experimental equipment and his research achievements. Arthur followed him into a surveillance room with over a dozen monitors, all displaying different parts of the villa.

Some screens showed moving images. Arthur realized Dr. Pym had attached cameras to ants—an ingenious idea.

“The show’s about to begin!” Dr. Pym said.

Sure enough, after a while, they saw a van park outside Dr. Pym’s villa.

A man in black stepped out—it was Scott Lang. Scott surveyed his surroundings, then leapt over the yard wall into Dr. Pym’s garden.

“Agile moves—looks every bit the seasoned pro,” Arthur remarked, watching Scott climb up to the villa’s second floor in just a few moments.

“He’s got the makings of a born thief,” Dr. Pym agreed. One reason he’d taken an interest in Scott was his impressive skills.

Scott disconnected all the villa’s security cameras and alarms, unaware the real surveillance was carried out by tiny ants.

He used a knife to pry open a window, jumped inside, and headed to the basement, where the safe was kept. After opening a wooden door, he found a metal one with a fingerprint lock.

“There’s a fingerprint lock on the door,” Scott said.

“What fingerprint lock? Ernesto never mentioned that. Are we out of luck?” Luis asked over the headset.

“Not necessarily,” Scott replied, searching the room for tape, glue, and a metal ring.

He used tape to lift a fingerprint from a cup, placed it on the ring, then poured glue onto it, heating it on the stove until it solidified.

He created a thin fingerprint sheet, placed it on the lock, scanned it, and with a click, the door opened.

Inside, Scott finally saw the “safe.”

“Oh my God!” Scott was stunned.

“What’s wrong?” Luis asked.

“They didn’t lie to us! This safe is absolutely impregnable,” Scott said.

“How sturdy is it, Scott?” Luis asked.

“Made in Carbondale, produced in 1910, same material as the Titanic,” Scott explained.

“Wow! Can you open it?” Luis asked.

“Well, it’s not great at handling cold. Remember the Titanic hit an iceberg?” Scott replied.

“Of course! That’s where DiCaprio drowned!” Luis said.

“They all drowned!” Dave added.

“Except for that old lady—she threw the Heart of the Ocean into the sea…” Kurt chimed in.

Scott found an air cushion, drilled a hole in the safe’s door, inflated the cushion beneath the door, and hung a curtain over it. He poured water into the lock and froze it with liquid oxygen. The expanding ice deformed the metal door, sending screws flying into the curtain. With no screws left, the metal door fell onto the air cushion.

Scott’s every move was captured by the cameras; Arthur and Dr. Pym watched intently.

“He’s quite the talent!” Arthur admired Scott’s professional skills, and Dr. Pym nodded in agreement.

“All done!” Scott entered the safe, only to find it empty except for a vintage motorcycle suit.

“What’s inside? Cash? Gold?” Luis asked.

“Nothing! Just a suit—old-fashioned motorcycle gear. Damn! We got scammed,” Scott said in disappointment.

“Sorry, Scott. I get why you wanted this score,” Luis said regretfully.

Scott stuffed the suit into his backpack and left.

“He took the suit!” Arthur said.

“That’s exactly what I wanted. I needed him to take it,” Dr. Pym replied.

“So what next? Wait for him to put it on?” Arthur asked, though he knew the answer.

“Keep watching and you’ll see…” Dr. Pym replied calmly.

Scott didn’t notice the swarm of camera-equipped ants monitoring his every move.

…