Life with superheroes

Hank Pym glanced at Mike, shook his head with a wry smile, and said nothing.

Clark tilted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching as he fought the urge to laugh. He had never seen his father like this.

As the finish line loomed closer and Mike's voice echoed with encouragement, Clark dug in. With a burst of speed, he surged past his opponent, claiming first place with an undeniable lead. He crossed the finish line to cheers.

"Haha! We win!"

"First place!"

Mike and Hank Pym shouted jubilantly, hugging each other in excitement, their hands slapping one another's backs in celebration.

Nearby, a disgruntled couple glared at them before storming off, muttering curses under their breath.

"Yeah, yeah, get lost!" Mike shot back, flipping them off as they walked away.

Moments later, Clark and Hope approached, their smiles wide. They were each swept into celebratory hugs by their respective fathers.

"Great job, Hope!"

"Naturally!" Hope replied smugly, lifting her chin in pride.

Mike leaned closer to Clark, nudging his son's chest with an elbow. "Smart move out there, kid," he whispered.

Clark scratched his head sheepishly, grinning. "Thanks, Dad."

"The awards are starting. Go!" Mike nudged Clark toward the podium.

Clark and Hope hurried over, beaming as they climbed onto the platform. Below, Charles and Eric cheered wildly, pumping their fists in the air as Clark's name was called.

The prizes weren't extravagant, but they held immense sentimental value, marking a cherished moment in the children's lives.

After the ceremony, Clark and Hope retreated to rest, preparing for the next event—a four-person, five-legged race.

Hope scrutinized Hank and Mike skeptically. "Are you two sure you can handle this?"

Mike smirked. "Oh, please!"

Hank chuckled dismissively. "This is nothing!"

But confidence and execution, as they soon discovered, were two very different things.

The participants lined up, ropes binding their legs together. At the signal, the race began.

"Remember the rhythm! Left, right, left!" Hope barked orders, her commanding tone keeping everyone focused.

Mike adjusted quickly, his assassin training helping him find the rhythm. But Hank... not so much. A single misstep led to chaos, their entire formation collapsing.

"Hank!" Hope shouted, her frustration clear.

Hank clenched his jaw, his desperation growing. He couldn't afford to mess this up; his relationship with Hope had just started to mend. He glanced at Mike and growled, "Work with me here!"

Hank then swept Hope into his arms and declared, "We'll do this my way!"

Mike rolled his eyes but didn't argue. He adjusted his pace, scooped Clark off the ground, and matched Hank's steps.

Their unconventional approach worked. Synchronizing their movements, they surged forward with surprising speed, overtaking competitors one by one.

Amid gasps and cheers, they crossed the finish line first.

"Ha! Told you we'd win!" Hank grinned triumphantly at Hope.

Hope snorted, feigning disinterest, though the slight curl of her lips betrayed her satisfaction.

Their victory, however, was short-lived.

The referee approached, shaking his head. "Your result is invalid."

Mike sighed. "Of course it is."

Hank's grin vanished. "What?! Say that again!" He fixed the referee with a cold stare.

Unfazed, the referee explained, "This is a four-person, five-legged race. You were missing two feet."

Hope groaned, her shoulders slumping in disappointment. She cast Hank a sharp look before turning on her heel and walking away.

Hank hesitated before following her, his steps slower, weighed down by guilt. Watching his daughter retreat, he sighed deeply and glanced back at Mike, offering a defeated smile.

Clark stepped in. "Dad, I'll go talk to Hope."

"Give her some time," Mike interjected, patting Hank's shoulder. "She'll come around."

With that, Mike turned toward Charles and Eric, who were waving at him like their lives depended on it. He chuckled, knowing he had to check on them before they strained something.

In the crowd, a pair of watchful eyes tracked Hope's movements. A man adjusted the brim of his hat, his lips curling into a sinister grin.

This was his chance. If he could grab the girl, he could ransom her wealthy father, change his identity, and escape to start anew.

He slipped through the crowd, his pace quickening as Hope moved farther from the throng.

Mike's gaze sharpened, his instincts kicking in. Something about the man's face tugged at his memory.

Where have I seen him before?

And then it hit him—a mutant criminal he'd seen on the news just days ago.

"Damn it," Mike muttered under his breath.

The man was closing in on Hope, and Clark was just a few steps behind her. Without wasting another second, Mike broke into a run.

Hank, who had been lost in thought, snapped to attention as he saw Mike's sudden urgency. His eyes followed Mike's trajectory and landed on the man trailing Hope.

His stomach sank. What the hell was going on?

Meanwhile, the mutant smirked as he neared Hope. He was so close now, just a few strides away.

But the sound of pounding footsteps behind him made him glance back. He spotted Mike charging toward him, his face set with determination.

How did he recognize me? Panic flashed in the mutant's eyes before it was replaced with a grim resolve. He turned his focus back to Hope, a feral grin spreading across his face.

No one will stop me now.

"Hope! Clark! Run!" Mike's voice cut through the commotion.

Hope spun around just as the mutant lunged toward her. She screamed.

Clark clenched his fists, ready to act, but Mike got there first, tackling the man to the ground with a thud.

"Go!" Mike shouted. Clark grabbed Hope's hand, pulling her toward the safety of the crowd.

The mutant growled, electricity crackling around him. A sudden burst of energy threw Mike off him, drawing gasps from onlookers as chaos erupted in the playground.

Sizzling arcs of lightning danced across the mutant's body as he stood, his gaze fixed on Hope.

"Not today," Hank muttered, sprinting forward. He placed himself between the mutant and the children, shouting, "Run!"

The mutant sneered, surging forward, electricity sparking dangerously. Hank braced himself, cursing under his breath.

For the first time, he felt the absence of his Ant-Man suit keenly. Even if he had it, there wouldn't have been time to put it on.

But he couldn't let that stop him—not now.

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