And all of this was being transmitted in real-time to Hank Pym, who was hiding in a dark room.
He was sitting in front of a row of monitoring screens. The images on the screens were divided into many small grids, and the perspectives were extremely peculiar, all filmed from low angles on the floor or in the corners of walls.
Those were real-time images sent back by the ant cameras he had deployed throughout the entire house.
Hank watched Scott on the screen as he expertly cracked the alarm, fabricated fingerprints, used low temperatures to blast open the vault door, and finally stuffed the ant-man suit into a bag.
A satisfied smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"This kid indeed has some talent; his infiltration techniques are practically perfect. I hope he performs just as excellently after putting on the suit."
But suddenly, a dark shadow appeared in the number two monitoring screen located in the upper right corner.
It was a pair of feet wearing tactical military boots.
Hank suddenly sat up straight, his brow furrowed. His fingers tapped rapidly on the keyboard, switching between several different ant camera perspectives.
The images were transmitted back.
In the first-floor hallway of the Villa, three fully armed personnel had silently infiltrated.
They wore uniform black tactical combat gear, night-vision goggles on their heads, and held compact submachine guns equipped with silencers. Their tactical movements were clean and efficient as they covered each other while advancing toward the entrance of the Underground Room.
"Who are these people?!"
Hank's face turned ashen.
Scott's infiltration was something he had personally orchestrated and guided, but this group of fully armed mercenaries was definitely not part of his plan!
Looking at their equipment and tactical proficiency, they were by no means ordinary thieves. They had a clear objective and moved swiftly, obviously coming for the vault in the Underground Room.
"Darren?" Hank's brain worked rapidly, and he immediately had a suspicion. "But how could he know the suit was hidden here?!"
Seeing the mercenaries approaching, Hank broke into a cold sweat.
Although Scott was a clever thief, he definitely didn't have the ability to deal with a group of professional killers like this.
He quickly grabbed the phone and dialed the Police.
"This is 804 Millville Street. Armed thugs have broken into my house! They have automatic weapons! Send Police over immediately!"
After hanging up, Hank stared intently at the monitor, but there was nothing he could do now; Scott wasn't wearing the helmet, so he couldn't contact him at all.
"Scott, run..."
...
In the Underground Room.
Scott zipped up the backpack and swung it onto his back. He patted the dust off his hands and turned to leave the vault.
Just as he walked up the stairs and reached the corner of the first-floor staircase, his ears suddenly caught the slight sound of leather friction.
The alertness he had honed in prison and the underworld made Scott stop in his tracks immediately, lowering his body to find cover.
He cautiously peeked out, only to see red laser aiming dots sweeping across the room.
"Damn! Someone's here," Scott cursed inwardly. "Luis, is there any movement on the perimeter?" he asked in a low voice, pressing his communicator.
"Everything's normal, man. Not even a stray cat," Luis replied.
"Damn it, they came in through the back door."
Scott's heart sank; he only had a power drill in his hand, while the other side obviously had guns.
Three mercenaries walked down the stairs in a triangular formation. The leader, wearing night-vision goggles, spotted Scott hiding behind a bookshelf at a glance, along with the bulging backpack on his back.
"Target located. He has the item," the mercenary reported in a low voice into his throat mic.
No warning, no nonsense.
He raised the silenced submachine gun and pulled the trigger directly.
Puff puff puff puff puff!
A string of bullets flew past almost grazing Scott's nose, shattering the wainscoting behind him. Wood chips splattered, hitting Scott's face.
"Hell!"
Scott reacted extremely quickly; he immediately rolled forward, grabbing a vase stand at the corner of the stairs and slamming it with force toward the lead mercenary.
The heavy wooden stand struck the mercenary's chest with a 'whoosh,' knocking him back a couple of steps.
Scott took the opportunity to rush toward the stairs to the second floor, fleeing for his life.
But he underestimated the reaction speed of these professional killers.
The other two mercenaries quickly fanned out. One of them stepped onto the stairs ahead of him and delivered a front kick, slamming it hard into Scott's abdomen.
The immense force sent Scott reeling backward, crashing heavily back onto the first-floor ground.
"Cough, ah!"
Scott coughed up some bile, feeling as if his internal organs had all shifted out of place.
Before he could even crawl up, the mercenary he had hit with the flower stand had already rushed over. He grabbed the strap of the backpack on Scott's back and yanked it hard.
The backpack's shoulder strap snapped, and the bag containing the ant-man suit was snatched away by the mercenary.
"The item is in hand." The mercenary unzipped the backpack to take a look and nodded to his companions.
The other two mercenaries stepped forward, flanking him as they raised their submachine guns, their dark muzzles pointing straight at Scott's head.
"Dispose of him, then retreat." The mercenary who had grabbed the backpack coldly issued the execution order.
Scott lay on the ground, looking at the two muzzles about to spit fire, his mind going completely blank.
"Is this how it ends?"
He hadn't even gotten custody of Cassie yet; he didn't want to die in this dark, moldy Underground Room.
Out of the instinct of a human facing death, Scott closed his eyes in despair, crossing his arms to protect his head and face.
At the very moment the mercenary's finger pulled the trigger.
At the position on Scott's chest close to his skin, a sudden burning sensation was felt.
Immediately following that, something incredible happened.
The metal pendant that the man named Daniel had given him in the bar transformed into a mass of liquid metal flowing like mercury, spreading like lightning along Scott's skin onto his crossed arms.
Hum—!
Accompanied by a slight high-frequency vibration sound.
The liquid metal covering Scott's arms instantly expanded outward.
In a tenth of a second,
A metal disc about half a meter in diameter, its surface smooth as a mirror, appeared in front of Scott's arms.
Puff puff puff puff puff!
The mercenary emptied his magazine, and the lethal bullets followed one after another.
Clang clang clang clang clang clang clang!
A series of dense bullet heads struck the mirror surface, kicking up sparks in all directions, and then were all deflected away.
The gunfire stopped.
The mercenary looked at the empty magazine and was stunned.
What on earth is this?!
Scott opened his eyes; he looked at the metal-sheened disc on his arm, his mouth also hanging open in astonishment.
Before he could figure it out, the mirror-like disc melted back into liquid mercury, quickly retracting and flowing back down his arm to his chest, transforming once again into that quiet pendant.
"Fire! Change magazines and fire!" The lead mercenary snapped back to his senses and roared loudly.