But at this moment, Scott was no longer the lamb waiting for slaughter as he had been just a moment ago.
Survival instincts and the street fighting skills he had learned in prison were completely triggered at this instant.
"Go to hell!"
Scott let out a roar. Instead of choosing to flee, he lunged directly at the lead mercenary.
To capture the bandits, one must first capture their leader!
He was less than two meters away from the leader, and with one stride, he rushed in front of the man.
Before the leader could finish changing his magazine, Scott had already thrown a punch, aiming straight for his liver.
The moment Scott threw the punch,
The pendant on his chest seemed to sense his intent to attack.
The metal surged again like liquid mercury, covering Scott's right fist and arm in the blink of an eye, forming a heavy gauntlet with a metallic texture.
Boom—!!!
Scott's punch landed solidly on the lead mercenary's abdomen.
That heavily armed mercenary, who stood over 1.9 meters tall and weighed 180 pounds,
Was actually knocked off his feet by Scott's punch, flying backward through the air!
With a loud crash, he smashed through the wooden wall behind him, spraying a mouthful of blood. Without even letting out a groan, he passed out on the spot.
The remaining two mercenaries were dumbfounded.
What kind of thief could punch a fully armed mercenary ten meters away?!
Had they run into one of Vought's city heroes?
Scott himself was also startled. He looked at the glowing silver gauntlet on his right hand, feeling the terrifying power that had exploded from that punch just now.
"This thing... what exactly is it?"
But now was not the time to investigate that question.
Outside the house, Police sirens suddenly blared, piercing through the entire Villa.
The Police could burst in at any moment.
"Luis! Start the car! I'm coming out!" Scott shouted.
He didn't try to snatch back the backpack containing the ant-man suit; to Scott, that was just an old motorcycle suit.
Escaping was the priority; he didn't want to go back to prison.
The metallic gauntlet on his right fist shrank back into a pendant once more.
Scott rushed out of the window as agilely as a cheetah and flipped over the courtyard wall.
In the darkness of the night, the van hidden under the shade of the trees had already started, its door wide open.
Scott dove into the van.
"Drive! Get out of here!"
"Got it! Buddy! Hold on tight!"
Luis floored the gas pedal, the tires screaming against the road surface as they disappeared into the San Francisco night like an arrow from a bow.
The suit had been stolen.
The successor he had carefully selected had abandoned the suit and run away.
"Darren..." Old Hank clenched his fists, anger and worry flashing in his eyes. The development of the situation had completely spiraled out of his control.
...
San Francisco, an elegant three-star Michelin French restaurant.
The melodious sound of a violin flowed through the air.
Homelander and Hope's dinner was nearing its end in an extremely pleasant atmosphere.
Homelander displayed all the qualities a charming man should have: humor, wit, erudition, and perfect listening. Every word he said and every look in his eyes hit Hope's heart with precision.
Hope gently swirled the red wine in her goblet, her gaze a bit hazy as she looked at the man sitting opposite her.
She was reluctant to admit it, but she had to face her own heart. Her heart, which had been silent for many years, had indeed been stirred by this man she had known for less than a day.
After dinner, Homelander drove Hope to the bottom of her high-end apartment building.
The sports car slowly came to a stop.
A brief silence fell inside the car, with only the slight hum of the engine idling.
"Thank you for dinner, Daniel. It was a... perfect night." Hope turned to look at Homelander's profile, which appeared even more charming under the dim lights of the car.
"That's exactly what I was going to say, Hope. Thank you for your company tonight." Homelander smiled slightly, responding with a lingering gaze.
Silence fell over the car again, an ambiguous sentiment permeating the small space.
"Daniel," Hope's voice trembled slightly, "if you're not in a hurry... would you like to come upstairs for a drink?"
In the adult World, what this highly suggestive invitation represented was self-evident.
Homelander looked at her eyes full of expectation, the smile on his lips deepening.
"It would be my honor."
The two took the elevator to Hope's luxurious penthouse apartment.
The apartment's decor was minimalist and modern, with the brilliant night view of the San Francisco Bay Area visible through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows.
Hope took off her high heels and walked barefoot to the bar, taking out two crystal wine glasses and pouring a bit of Macallan Whiskey.
She walked to the living room carrying the two glasses and handed one to Homelander.
"Cheers, to our meeting," Hope raised her glass.
"To you," Homelander clinked glasses with her.
The two sat down on the sofa in front of the floor-to-ceiling window.
With the catalyst of alcohol, the conversation gradually shifted from business and technology to personal preferences, life, and even deeper emotions.
The more they talked, the more they hit it off, and the distance between them unknowingly grew closer.
Smelling the addictive scent on Homelander, Hope only felt her mouth and throat go dry.
She drained half her glass in one go, a seductive blush rising on her cheeks.
"Are you always this perfect, Daniel?" Hope asked, emboldened by the alcohol as she looked at him daringly.
"You seem to always know exactly what to say and what to do."
"That's because I'm facing you, Hope." Homelander lowered his head slightly, leaning close to her ear, "You deserve the most perfect treatment."
Hope's heart rate suddenly accelerated, and she tilted her head up slightly.
Their gazes met, and there seemed to be electricity crackling in the air.
Homelander slowly leaned forward, and Hope closed her eyes as well, tilting her chin up slightly, her rosy lips trembling faintly.
Their breaths were already intertwined, and Homelander's palm was ready to scale the peaks.
Just as their lips were about to touch,
"Buzz— Buzz— Buzz—"
A sudden, rapid vibration of a mobile phone broke this extremely ambiguous atmosphere.
Hope snapped her eyes open, her body recoiling like she'd been shocked, and she scrambled to grab the phone on the coffee table.
She wanted to hang up directly, but when she caught a glimpse of the caller ID on the screen, her expression changed slightly.
"It's my father." Hope looked at Homelander apologetically, "He rarely calls me at this time."
"Answer it; perhaps there's an emergency." Homelander leaned back on the sofa and nodded understandingly.
Hope swiped the answer button.
"Hope! Where are you right now?!" Hank Pym's anxious, even slightly panicked voice came through the receiver.
"I'm at home. What is it, Father?" Hope stood up, her brow furrowed.
"Something's happened! Hope! You must return to the old house immediately!"
"What's the matter that you're so flustered?" Hope asked calmly.
"We'll talk when you get back! It's not convenient right now." Old Hank's tone was incredibly heavy.
"Alright, I'll be there soon."