"Instruction confirmed." Skynet replied without any hesitation. "Mission will be accomplished within forty minutes."
After Homelander cut the communication, he pressed the call button for another encrypted channel.
The line was connected after only half a ring, and Brock Rumlow's deep, respectful voice came through.
"Boss. Everything is normal here at S.H.I.E.L.D. Any instructions?"
"Rumlow, contact Mitchell Carson," Homelander instructed. "Tell him to use his HYDRA identity to immediately leak some information to Darren Cross at Pym Technologies."
"Specifics?"
"Tell Darren that HYDRA's intelligence network has confirmed the real ant-man suit is currently hidden in the vault in Hank Pym's Underground Room."
Homelander chuckled. "Tell him that although it's an antique, it's far more perfect than the immature prototype he currently has. If Darren can get his hands on that real suit, HYDRA is willing to purchase it at double the price."
On the other end of the phone, Rumlow gave a light laugh. "Understood, boss. If that bald guy hears about double the price and a perfect suit, he'll definitely bite like a shark smelling blood."
"Very well, go ahead. Let him seize this opportunity." Homelander hung up the phone.
...
One hour later.
An upscale apartment district in San Francisco.
Homelander stood in the Shadow of a streetlamp below the apartment building. By now, he was wearing the mimetic skin delivered on time by Skynet.
This high-tech product perfectly adhered to his muscle lines, providing a Zero-feeling and skin-friendly experience—so thin it seemed as if it were his own skin.
He had now completely transformed into the unremarkable Asian youth, Daniel; even if he went swimming, no flaw would be revealed.
"Skynet's technology is indeed impeccable. In every aspect," Homelander remarked.
Before long, the glass doors of the apartment slid open to both sides.
Hope van Dyne walked out.
Tonight, she wore a wine-red, form-fitting evening gown, its silky fabric perfectly outlining her toned figure from years of exercise.
The back featured a large V-neck hollow design, revealing her beautifully lined butterfly bones.
Her sleek short hair was meticulously styled, and paired with her cool, elegant aura, she had a unique charm in the night.
Homelander stepped forward and naturally opened his arms. Hope also leaned in slightly with tacit understanding, and their cheeks touched gently.
As their skin touched, Hope felt the warm sensation from Homelander's cheek, making her heart flutter slightly.
"You are so beautiful tonight that I can't look away, Hope. This gown was practically made for you," Homelander praised, his gaze sweeping over Hope without concealment.
Hope's cheeks flushed slightly. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled back. "You look good too, Daniel. The suit fits well."
Homelander gentlemanly opened the passenger door, reaching out to protect the edge of the car roof.
Hope lifted her skirt and sat elegantly inside the car.
The Aston Martin's engine roared to life as it drove into the brilliant night of San Francisco.
...
While Homelander and Hope were tasting caviar and Burgundy wine under the flickering candlelight...
Outside the courtyard of Hank Pym's Villa.
A battered brown van sat quietly in the tree Shadows across the street.
"Radio check. One, two, one, two. Can you hear me, Scott?"
Inside the van, Luis, wearing monitoring headphones, spoke quickly into the microphone. "I just got off the phone with my cousin's friend. He said the patrol cars in this neighborhood usually don't come back for an hour. You've got plenty of time, brother."
"Copy that, loud and clear, Luis. Keep the channel quiet."
Scott was dressed in a black infiltration suit with a dark knit cap. He moved quickly along the Shadows, avoiding the streetlights.
Finding his spot, he didn't pause for a second. After a short run-up, he kicked off hard, his body soaring into the air. With a push from his waist, he performed a nimble roll and landed steadily inside the courtyard without making a sound.
He then approached the house, quickly climbing to the second floor using the windowsills and drainpipes. Clinging to the second-floor windowsill, he pulled out a small device and easily disabled the house alarm.
The whole process was smooth and fluid, his agility as if he were possessed by Ezio Auditore.
Scott pried open an unlocked glass window and flipped inside.
His gaze swept around. Antique furniture, walls of bookshelves, and thick carpets—everything highlighted the owner's extraordinary wealth.
He didn't linger on the second floor, heading down the stairs to the first.
On a table in front of the stairs leading down to the Underground Room on the first floor, a shiny key lay there quietly.
"What a coincidence?" Scott thought.
Without pausing, he picked up the key and went straight to the wooden door of the Underground Room.
He inserted the key into the lock and gave it a gentle turn.
The wooden door opened, but there was another door behind it, and it had a fingerprint lock.
"Game over, man?" Luis's voice came through the headphones.
"Not necessarily," Scott smiled confidently.
He then used tape, superglue, and other materials to lift Pym's fingerprint, easily breaking through this second line of defense.
Finally, he arrived in front of the vault door.
"I see it, Luis. This safe is tough." Scott walked up to the vault door and reached out to touch its cold, rough metal surface. "A Carbondale vault, made in 1910."
"Can you crack it, Scott?" Luis's voice carried a hint of tension and anticipation.
"Crack it? Did you know the steel used to make this thing is the same as what was used for the Titanic?"
"So?" Luis asked, puzzled, on the other end.
"Remember what happened after the Titanic hit the iceberg?" Scott asked back.
Luis blurted out in the channel, "I remember! The ship sank! It drowned Leo!"
"Exactly." Scott pulled various tools and a canister of high-concentration liquid nitrogen from his backpack and acted quickly.
He drilled a small hole in the metal door, skillfully poured in Water and liquid nitrogen, while giving everyone a physics lesson over the communication channel.
"This kind of metal becomes extremely brittle at low temperatures. And when Water freezes, its volume expands. This expansion force is unstoppable in a confined space."
After a while, a thick layer of White frost quickly formed on the surface of the metal vault door.
"Creeeeeak—"
"BANG!!!"
With a loud explosion, the vault door, weighing several tons, was forced open.
"Open Sesame."
Scott walked into the heavily guarded vault with a look of triumph.
However, as his gaze swept around the small vault...
...it was empty.
No gold, no cash, no jewelry. Only a neatly folded motorcycle riding suit.
It wasn't what he had imagined.
"How is it, man?" Luis urged.
"There's nothing, Luis." Scott sighed, reaching out to grab the suit. "There's only an old set of motorcycle leathers in here."
"Sorry, buddy," Luis said apologetically over the comms. "I messed up. I couldn't get you a big score."
"Forget it, I'm already here."
Following the professional ethics of a thief never leaving empty-handed, Scott rolled the motorcycle suit into a ball and stuffed it into his backpack.