#2: A Journey Begins

The Pym Particle! Developed by Henry Pym and his partner William Foster, this remarkable compound will lead to a future of endless possibilities and a world of adventure! Now Hank has stumbled into the role of Ant-Man, and with support by Janet van Dyne and her father, will the world be ready for their…

The Scene of the Crime:

It was a frenzy of activity as Janet van Dyne was led by police to a waiting car. She smiled at the reporters who pressed up as close as they could, while a second escort of police led the groggy, handcuffed David Cannon out of the building.

“Please, Miss van Dyne, what was it like in there?”

“Why did David Cannon kidnap you?”

“How did you get out?”

These questions and more were all thrown at the fashion mogul as she paused near the car. She looked over at the reporters and said, “I’ll tell you all about it later, after I’ve made my report to the police.” She gave a polite wave, her face still pale and disheveled from the events of the afternoon. “I promise, but these nice boys in blue have earned the right to talk with me first.”

She blew the police around her a kiss as she quickly took control of herself once more. “But I will tell you this much, I’d still be in there, I’m sure, if not for a handsome man in red who saved me.”

“Who?” The wall of reporters and explosion of lights crashed in closer as they demanded more.

“A new hero, you be on the lookout for him, if you can,” Jan teased the group as she prepared to slide into the car. “He’s the Ant-Man, and just wait until you see more of him.” She sat down and let the police drive her out as the reporters, unsatisfied with these scraps, pursued the cars. She waved out of the back window and then sank into the seat and exhaled heavily.

“The Ant-Man, Miss van Dyne?” the officer at the wheel asked as he took a glance at his rearview mirror to look in on his passenger.

“What can I say? It’s my first time naming a super-hero,” she replied with a weak grin, her mind racing with colors and designs.


Vernon van Dyne had gotten the text message on his phone... passed from Jan’s PDA inside the house, through her secretary, and finally to him. It said to get Bill to the back door. As badly as he wanted to be there for his daughter, the older man knew Jan well enough to know that she must need something done... and so it was due to that, that Vernon and Bill Foster crept around back in time to see a shaky Henry Pym slip out of the rear door, draped in a white sheet.

“Hank? What the hell’s going on?” Bill asked as he stepped up and slipped a shoulder under the blond man’s arm to support him. Vernon spotted a white lab coat in the backyard and picked it up. He handed it to Hank who took it and nodded.

“Thanks, guys,” Hank said as he continued to stumble away from the house. “Come on, we need to get out of here, and I’ll explain it all.”

“You’re the reason Jan got out,” Vernon stated, as fact, his voice filled with awe. “How? How did you get in, my boy?”

The three men quickly staggered out of the backyard and down a nearby alley to Henry’s parked car. “Hope you don’t mind if you do the driving, Bill?” Hank asked sheepishly as he pulled the keys out of the lab coat pocket.

“Not at all, buddy,” Bill said. “I’ll take Hank back to the lab, and you can go get your car and check in on Jan, Dr. van Dyne?”

“Sounds like a fine plan,” Vernon replied as he helped Hank into the car then shook Bill’s hand. “I’ll be back shortly.” He turned back to Hank and clapped the young scientist’s shoulder again. “Thanks, son.”

Soon, the car had pulled away, and Bill looked over at his friend. “What the hell happened, Hank?”

“It worked, Bill,” Hank Pym said with a weak smile but glittering, excited eyes. “The compound worked. That’s what happened.”

“I don’t follow,” Bill said as the car sped through the evening streets. “What did you do?”

“The compound, I used it to flux my body,” Hank explained as he slowly started to recover, his shaking subsiding and his face regaining color. “I injected an extract that shrunk my body down to the size of an insect. With a couple of other gadgets, I was able to use a flying ant to get up to the house, and sneak in.” He shook his head in awe at his own actions. “It was amazing.”

“I see,” Bill replied. He nodded, pursed his lips and then finally added, “So you took our compound, risked your life and Jan’s by injecting it to provide your body with supernormal properties, and basically turned yourself into a damned hero?”

Hank looked at his friend with surprise at his seemingly angry reaction. “We were close to clinical trials. I didn’t see any reason not to. I admit, I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“You gave yourself powers and turned yourself into a costumed hero?” Bill finally finished his thought as he struggled to keep from laughing. “And with a serum that could give you just about any damned property you could think of, you're first thought was to shrink yourself? To the size of an ant?” As the car pulled into the lab at last, Bill was shaking in laughter, his head finally resting on the steering wheel when the car came to a stop. “You have got to work on your confidence!”

Hank continued to stare at him and slowly, his lips curled up into a grin. Then he also shook and burst out laughing. The two men sat in the car and laughed as Bill felt a tremendous flood of relief in his heart and mind that his best friends and his formula were all well.


“I’m so relieved to see you, dear,” Vernon said as he gave his daughter a huge hug. Jan gave a slight squeal at the strong embrace but hugged her father back and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am too, Dad,” Jan confessed quietly. “Did…Ant-Man get away okay?” She leaned up to whisper in his ear, but was clearly concerned for eavesdroppers, as the reporters continued to mob the front lobby of the precinct house, and police swarmed the office area.

“Ant-Man?” Vernon asked as he stepped back and gave a quizzical look. “Oh! You mean...why…oh! Right. Yes, we…er, Bill and I that is, we watched him, er…fly off…” He looked into Jan’s eyes for cues, “…yes. All good. Probably in his…ant-cave even as we speak.”

Jan was giggling as she watched her father put on the spot and turned back to the sergeant who had been taking her report. “Is there anything else, officer?” she asked him sweetly.

The sergeant looked down at his desk and the stack of notes he’d gotten from Janet, as well as the autographed picture she was kind enough to consent to for the staff. “Oh yes, ma’am. We’re all good. The DA will be in touch with you over trial details, and we have your business card if we need more information. Is there anything else we can offer you?”

“Nope, Daddy’s here to take me home, where a good long soak in a tub is waiting for me.” She winked at the sergeant and turned back to her father. “Ready to escort me through the throng?”

“That’s not necessary, we can get you out through the back if you prefer,” the sergeant offered as he gave a small gulp to the mental image the celebrity had offered him.

“Why thanks, so much,” Jan replied. “Just a moment, though.” She stepped forward and addressed the reporters. “I’m leaving now, but I promise to talk more about my harrowing ordeal tomorrow afternoon, okay? You know how it is, I just need my beauty rest. But we can all sleep better tonight knowing we have these brave police, and now the Ant-Man watching over us. Sleep tight!” She blew the assembled reporters a kiss and then let her father and sergeant escort her to the back exit.

As father and daughter entered the car and pulled out of the parking lot, Vernon finally spoke up again. “What are you playing at, Janet?”

Jan knew that using her full name implied concern and possibly distress with her actions and she gave a sigh while she stared out the window. “What do you mean, Dad?”

“This Ant-Man business. Why didn’t you tell them it was Henry who saved you? For that fact, how did he save you?”

“Dad, this is just the sort of thing Hank needs to boost his ego,” Jan replied in a soft, even voice. “You don’t understand him like I do. You see him as the son you never had, the son who you can mold to take up after you. He and Bill. And that’s great. But Hank, he’s not you, and he’s not Bill. He’s quiet, and shy, and doesn’t think he’s a quarter as brilliant as he is. If I can make him into my own super-hero, and give him a shot of confidence, then why not?”

“He’s just a normal man,” Vernon said in response, the concern heavy in his voice. “Are you sure you’re not pushing him too hard?”

“Just a normal man? Dad, he appeared out of nowhere and laid out Cannon flat in a single blow.” Jan smiled affectionately as she remembered his sudden, flash appearance. “He was kind of in shock in there, so I’m not quite sure of the details, but he shrunk down to tiny size, and flew in on an ant. He talked to ants, and he shrank. What else could I call him?”

“You’re kidding?” Vernon’s eyes widened at the implications. “The formula. Astonishing.”

“I don’t know about any formula, but I agree it was something to see. So Ant-Man popped in my head, and he’s going to be the next big thing.” She gave a moment’s pause as her face took on a determined look. “Hank’s going to be my special project.”


“Come here, Bill, let me show you what I have in mind,” Hank said as he led his best friend down a hallway and to a small room in the back of the building. He pulled out a key and let them both in, switching on the lights in the room. “It’s about time, after all. I’ve had this in mind since…well, since I had the first equations in my head for the compound.”

Inside the room were blueprints, prototypes and half-completed gear scattered in all directions. Medical notes on human diagrams and complex circuit patterns and insect anatomy filled the walls and desk and tabletops. Bill entered and turned around in a slow circle.

“Dear God,” Bill said softly. “This wasn’t just a last minute thing, was it?”

“No. I mean, I want the formula to change the world. The possibilities for it, they’re… endless. Mindboggling.” He watched his friend’s face carefully as he spoke, and continued when he saw certain elements flickering in reaction. “But I’ll admit, we can use this to…do other things. Good things. Give back on a personal level.” He put a hand on Bill’s shoulder and pointed out one area of his work.

“This looks like grafting techniques,” Bill said as he stared closely.

“They are. Grafting insect-scaled wings and antennae to a normal person. They’d be practically invisible,” Hank explained. “Until shrunk to insect-sized with the formula. With a stabilization enzyme, they’d stay the same size, and thus…”

“Grant flight,” Bill finished the thought. “Good God. And the antennae? Communication?”

“Maybe. To be honest, it’s more to act as photoreceptors to power the flight, and possibly allow for blasts of bio-electric energy. I call it the Wasp Project.”

“Not me, buddy. You, maybe, but not me,” Bill said. “I don’t want it. I know where you’re headed, but not me.”

“My body won’t take to the adaptations,” Hank said. “The shrinking I can handle, but I’ve done tests, and my body will reject the grafts. But I’m not forcing anything on you, pal. It can remain a dream for now. But you deserved to know about everything.”

A buzzer sounded just then, jarring the two men out of their reverie to alert them to someone at the front door.

“Man, the Count was coming today! No one picked him up at the airport!” Hank said as he started to run out of the room. Bill followed closely behind as they headed for the front door.

Hank flung open the door and stared out at the imposingly regal figure that greeted him. Six feet in height, he was deeply tanned, with a lined, weathered face containing deep brown eyes and a thick mane of black hair that extended into an immaculately trimmed beard, peppered with gray. His suit was charcoal, with a burgundy tie and an elegant velvet coachman’s cloak in darker gray than the suit. He leaned on a thick cane topped in a golden eagle’s head. He looked over the two men, panting as they greeted him, and gave a polite smile.

“Well, well, my dear Henry,” Count Luchino Trovaya said with a pleasantly deep, rich voice, “I heard about the excitement with your mentor’s daughter this afternoon. I believe it’s possible to forgive you for missing my airplane as a result. But to be surprised by my visit?” He entered and gave a warm embrace to the blond scientist in his rumpled white shirt and blue trousers, in such contrast to the nobleman’s own impeccable garb.

“Sorry about that, Count,” Hank replied quietly as he gave his own hug back. “Just in sort of a tailspin after what happened.”

“I jest, Henry, just jest. Of course you should be rather off your mark from what occurred. A terrible thing. Thank goodness this…Ant Man?...saved Miss van Dyne.” Count Luchino moved in and offered a hearty, two-handed shake to Bill.

“Ant Man, Count?” Hank repeated.

“You’ve not heard Miss van Dyne’s comments about being rescued by a costumed interloper called the Ant-Man? How…strange?” Luchino noted. “Still and all, that is not why I am here. And what must I do to get you to call me by my name, dear boy? I may not be your father-in-law anymore, but I see you as my son in spirit all the same.”

“Right, well…yeah,” Hank stumbled as he glanced at Bill, who merely shrugged.

“Let’s get right down to it then, Count,” Bill stepped in as he took the noble’s cloak. “The Pym Particle is just about ready for clinical trials, so why don’t we show you where we all stand.”

“Pym Particle?” Luchino glanced at Hank and smiled quite happily. “Most excellent.”

“Right, well…” Hank glanced at Bill who winked and began the summary of the compound to their guest as Hank slipped out to lock up the back room, something both men felt the need to keep quiet for now.

“Tell me all about this Pym Particle, the upcoming trials, and its applications, William,” Count Luchino said as he followed behind and carefully observed the facilities. His fingers ran over the well-worn eagle’s head, the thumb slipping past the graven right eye of the bird which, unknown to all assembled, hummed with a life of its own.

On the receiving end of that life, a man sat hunched over his own computer, storing all the information as it was said aloud. Short, middle-aged, with a balding round head, one that was high-domed, the man sat and rubbed his fingers together with greedy glee, a cruel smile on his face. He rubbed a hand on his black coat and reached for a stylus and his PDA as he overheard the discussion of the Pym Particle.

He chuckled and made notes while the computer continued to record. “Oh yes, tell me all about it, ‘my boy’,” He cackled and then pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up against the bridge of the stunted nose. “Tell me all I need to know. Elihas Starr is most interested!” He chuckled and then called up the news reports on David Cannon’s capture. “Good choice. Young, strong…filled with passion. Him, then the particle then the Egghead rules the world!”

He paused and stroked his jaw. “Or not. So taking on my academic pejorative as a nom du crime doesn’t work in this case. Doesn’t matter. The world will tremble.” He glowered at the recording of the Count’s voice, the lips forming a wicked sneer. “Starting with you, Trovaya.”

Park Central Hotel, New York City:

“Are you really sure about this?” Hank Pym asked as he tugged at the tight red collar around his neck. His nervous blue eyes looked over at Janet van Dyne for reassurance, but that didn’t work. She was dressed in a stunning dress of her own design, deep glittering red and belted tight to help display every inch of her petite beauty. The gown offered a playfully arrangement for her modest cleavage, and her trim right thigh peeked out from a slit in the dress. She carried herself with grace and confidence, while she stood and looked at her charge and shook her head.

Hank Pym was dressed in a scarlet tunic and tight white leather pants. Black boots and gloves, and black belt equipped with pouches containing his gadgets, and the canisters for his particles, helped to set off the costume. A large black circle on his chest had one black bar radiating down towards the belt, and two bars radiating out to each shoulder, where the formed two smaller black circles. The entire costume fit Hank very well, and even he had to admit, as he stared into the mirror, that it gave a sharp, sleek look to his own body.

However, he was never one for the spotlight, and he never considered that he would be acting the part of costumed hero when he developed the superhuman properties of the Pym Particle. Yet here he was, in his first Ant-Man costume, staring at Jan for reassurance and instead giving a hard swallow when he looked at her beauty. He wished he could speak up, and say what he’d wanted to say for years. Instead, he looked out of sorts and tugged now at the belt. “I mean…Ant-Man? You really want to go through with this?”

“Henry Pym, this is the last time I’ll say this,” Janet said with a friendly exasperation. She walked over and handed him his helmet. “I designed and made this costume myself. Do you know the last time I actually put together one of my own designs?” She gave him a peck on the cheek and added, “You’re going to do fine. You’re braver than you think you are, and every bit as smart as everyone else knows you are, and the public’s going to love you. So get ready to go meet them.”

Hank’s cheek blushed nearly as red as his costume, and slipped the helmet over his head as he watched her walk out of the room. His eyes were hidden behind the compound lenses of the mask as he attached the chin strap and then swiveled the mouthpiece into position. He took another look in the mirror and smiled, straightening himself out. “It does look good.” He then turned to the stage door, and waited for the cue to present himself to the world.


“Okay, Cannon!” Barked the police officer as he walked up to the holding cell. “Get off yer ass! Yer lawyer gotchya out on bail.”

David Cannon looked up from his reclined position with an incredulous look. He pulled himself up to a sitting position and replied, “My lawyer? I don’t got no lawyer.”

“Ya do now, and he sprung ya, so get out already,” The cop snapped back as he opened up the bars. “He’s waitin’ for you out front, so move it already.”

Cannon stepped out and followed the officer through the halls and out into the main room after retrieving his things. He could see a well-dressed man with dark skin and darker hair waiting for him, a briefcase clutched in his hand that was worth more than all of David’s possessions added together. Cannon approached the man with a wary look.

“Come along now, Mr. Cannon,” The lawyer said. “Let’s go. I have a car out front.”

“Who are you?”

“My name is Lassiter. I’ve been retained by your benefactor to secure your freedom,” the lawyer answered coolly as he led the confused con out into the parking lot. A press of a button unlocked the black luxury sedan with a beep, and Cannon let out a low whistle.

“Sweet car,” Cannon admired as he slid into the passenger seat. “Why me?”

“I’m sure I don’t know why, Mr. Cannon,” Lassiter answered as he pulled away from the police station and turned out onto the streets.

Cannon sank into his seat and watched the city pass by, wary and curious about all of this. Some unknown guy pulling him out of the clink? Had to be a catch, and David was far to streetwise to be unprepared for the worst. Still, it be sitting in the stir, and maybe in some free time, he could renew his courtship of Janet.

He noticed that the car passed into Queens, and towards a three-story brownstone. It looked rundown, but not decrepit yet. It fit the neighborhood pretty well, actually, but it was clearly inhabited, unlike a couple of other nearby buildings. He stepped out of the car after it had pulled up in front of the building. Lassiter looked over across the passenger space from behind the wheel.

“This is my card, with my number,” he said. “You have a court date for motions in two weeks, call my secretary for date and time. If by some miracle you aren’t back in custody by then, make sure you’re shaved and dressed nicely. Got it?”

Cannon gave an absent-minded nod towards the lawyer who merely shook his head and drove off. Cannon stepped up the stone stairs and opened the front door. He stepped into the hall, peeling paint and cracked wood and plaster greeting him. The door closed shut behind the criminal as he looked up the bowing staircase and to the door at his right side.

“Good afternoon, Mister Cannon,” a voice spoke out. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

Cannon looked around, trying to find the source of the voice, and replied, “Thank your lawyer. I was just a passenger.”

“Oh, Mr. Lassiter will receive his retainer in a timely fashion, have no worry about that. For now though, let us get you settled into your home. You have much to do, much to do, to earn your keep.”

“Hey! I don’t just work for just anyone, and I don’t work without seein’ the guy I’m workin’ for!” he snapped back, looking up towards the ceiling.

“You work for me, Mr. Cannon, because with my brains and your savvy, we can help each other achieve our aims,” the voice answered back in a cool, calm tone.

“Oh? What aim?”

“Miss van Dyne. How much easier for you will it be to claim the adorable debutante if you have powers of your own to counter the insignificant Ant-Man?”

“Okay, you make a good point,” Cannon answered in that wary, slow voice. “But I don’t like working for a voice. I want a face, a name…some cash.”

“Oh yes. Cash indeed,” the voice answered back. “Come up the stairs. Second door on the right. There you will meet your benefactor, Mr. Cannon. There you will learn names, and faces, and how we will both get what we so desperately want.”

Elihas Starr watched the black-and-white monitor as it followed David Cannon’s trek up the staircase, a malicious grin creeping across his face. “Oh yes, indeed. Come up and meet your destiny with me, Mr. Cannon,” Starr muttered to himself.


Hank had just finished changing into his regular clothes and walked out into the lab to meet up with Bill, who was hunched over some equipment, preparing a test. He glanced to his partner and then back to the samples in front of him.

“So, pretty nice duds for a super-hero,” Bill teased Hank as the blond scientist reached out for a clipboard and started to scribble on it for his own work.

“Come on, Bill, spare me. Jan’s got it all worked up that I’m going to be this Ant-Man,” Hank said helplessly. “What can I do? I’m hoping she just moves on to her next project and fast.”

“Just keep in shape, buddy,” Bill suggested. “Until she does move on, and I don’t think that’s happening for a while, you’re going to have to be in top condition. Maybe we should hire you a personal trainer?”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Hank said with a chuckle as he walked over to a computer and called up a file. “I hear Toby Maguire’s in town for some action flick. Maybe he can recommend one to us.” He glanced over at Bill, who had turned to face his friend critically. “Hey! You’re serious?”

“Damn straight I’m serious,” Bill replied. “Guy, you’re Ant-Man. Good or ill, you can’t just bail on Janet now. She’s invested in this. Which means you need to be doing more than a couple of racquetball games a week with me, and pressing weights once a week.”

Bill walked over and handed a piece of paper to Hank. “I looked up a couple of places. Got some prices, some schedules and stuff. We can swing it. I want you staying alive in this. So do us all a favor, and hire someone.” Bill then returned to his counter, as Hank stared at the three names in shock.

“Wow,” Hank finally said. “What did I get myself into?”

“Janet van Dyne’s sights. That’s what you got into.”


Janet was busy typing away on her computer, and humming to herself, very pleased with the afternoon’s press conference. The reporters seemed to react well to Ant-Man’s appearance, and she was pretty pleased with the way the suit looked on Hank. She was feeling so good, that she was preparing to call Bill and ask him out to dinner when her secretary buzzed over the intercom.

“Miss van Dyne? Your lawyer is on the phone,” the secretary said with a nervous voice.

“Thanks, Myra,” Jan said as she then picked up her phone. “Give me the word, Jerry. What’s the scoop?”

“It’s Cannon, Janet,” Jerry Hobarth said in a very serious tone. “He made bail. He’s out right now.”

“How? How did he make bail? He has no money,” Janet was shocked at the news.

“Some high-priced lawyer came along, guy named Lassiter. Very good at his job,” Jerry explained. “I don’t know how come he’s involved, but I hope to find out for you.”

“You do that, Jerry,” Janet said as she tried to figure this all out in her head. “Thanks for calling.” She hung up the phone before Jerry could finish speaking, and looked blankly at her computer screen.