“Okay, here we go! Time travel test number one!”

Bruce Banner stood outside the Avengers compound, hoping that everything was going to work out just fine, but knowing that things usually didn't turn out that way.

Behind him was Hank Pym's van. Scott was now wearing the Ant-Man suit, and had opened the back doors of the van. Inside was the Quantum Tunnel that Hank Pym had been developing with his daughter, Hope Van Dyne. The two had vanished in the Blip. Now Scott and his friends would try to undo the damage.

Scott looked at the Quantum Tunnel, and heard the familiar hum of energy as the power turned on.

“Scott, fire up the, uh, the van thing!” Bruce called out, and Scott adjusted the controls. 1

“Breakers are set,” Steve announced, looking at the transformers. Then he took a few steps, to check out another rack of equipment. “Emergency generators are on standby.”

Bruce gave a quick nod, and moved behind the control array of what was essentially a time-travel device. If it worked. Natasha looked at the complex machinery, a tablet computer in her hand, as she monitored the output levels from the device.

Then Bruce motioned for Scott to pick up his helmet. He did, and made a few adjustments to the breathing apparatus.

“Good,” Bruce confirmed, responding to Steve. “Because if we blow the grid, I don't want to lose, uh, Tiny here in the Nineteen Fifties.”

Scott stopped fiddling with the helmet. “Excuse me?” He hoped that was a joke. Camaraderie in the face of adversity, right?

Natasha continued to tap on the tablet screen, but shot Bruce a look that said, “Stop it.”

“He's kidding,” Natasha told Scott, trying to reassure him.

“Kidding!” Bruce agreed unconvincingly.

“You can't say things like that,” Natasha said quietly to Bruce. Then she laughed to cover up the exchange, hoping Scott wouldn't hear.

“It was ... it was a bad joke!” Bruce emphasized, once again trying make Scott feel more at ease.

Scott nodded, still not sure, and turned his attention to the van.

Then Natasha whispered to Bruce, “You were kidding, right?”

Bruce whispered back, “I have no idea. I mean, we're talking about time travel here. Either it's all a joke, or none of it is.” They could all only hope for the best.

With that, Bruce held out his hand, thumb extended upward. “We're good!” he encouraged with a smile.

Scott still wasn't sure, but realized he didn't have much of a choice. Any choice, really. So much depended on this working. He stood at the back of Hank's van, and put on the Ant-Man helmet.

“Scott, I'm gonna send you back a week,” Bruce explained. “Let you walk around for an hour, then bring you back in ten seconds. Make sense?”

Scott waved his hand, trying to look nonchalant, realizing he looked anything but. “Perfectly not confusing,” he assured them. The Quantum Tunnel inside the van was now active, awaiting its intrepid explorer.

“Good luck, Scott. You got this,” Steve inspired others easily, with confidence that could only come from a living legend.

As he started to shrink, Scott called out, “You're right! I do, Captain America!”

Winking out of sight, Scott entered the Quantum Tunnel.

The seconds ticked by, and at the precise moment, Bruce began the countdown, “On a count of three. Three ... two ... one.” Then Bruce's far-too-large hands pushed levers and buttons in unison, and Steve wondered for a moment if he might actually destroy the control array.

And suddenly, Scott enlarged at the entrance to the Quantum Tunnel.

Natasha's jaw went slack. “What ...” was all she could get out.

Yes, Scott had returned from the Quantum Tunnel.

12-year-old Scott.

12-year-old Scott, wearing an Ant-Man suit meant for an adult. The uniform hung on him like bulky drapes.

“Uh, guys? This, this doesn't feel right,” 12-year-old Scott said in a higher-pitched voice.

Bruce looked at his hands, and at the control array. This wasn't the plan.

“What is this?” Steve pointed to Scott.

“What's going on?” Bruce asked, somewhat in a panic.

“Who is that?” Natasha demanded. “Is that Scott?” This was definitely not good.

“Yes, it's Scott,” he confirmed. Then the boy hit the controls on his gloves, and shrank from sight, entering the Quantum Tunnel once more.

“Hold on a second,” Bruce tried to figure out what had happened.

“What's going on?” Steve wanted to know, as Bruce activated the control array once more.

The Quantum Tunnel opened again, and Ant-Man suddenly grew in size, emerging from the aperture.

93-year-old Ant-Man.

“Bruce?” Steve said, his patience a little thinner.

“Oh, my back,” the elderly Ant-Man complained.

“Who is this?” Steve moved closer to the control array.

“Hold on a second,” Bruce requested. “Can I get a little space here? I just gotta get over here.” He was working as fast as he could.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Steve said, moving so Bruce could get to the device. But even he was getting worried. “Can you bring him back?”

Bruce flipped switches, toggling them back and forth, hitting buttons with his enormous green fingers. He looked at a monitor, and appearing unhappy with what he saw, he shook it. Then he nodded.

Once again, Scott shrank down into the Quantum Realm. Upon his return ... well, let's just say it was Scott.

Specifically ...

“It's a baby,” Steve announced. This wasn't good. At all.

“It's Scott,” Bruce stated, as if that was somehow okay, then.

“As a baby,” Steve said, not letting it go.

“He'll grow,” Bruce insisted.

“Bring Scott back.”

* * *

“When I say kill the power, kill the power!”

The Quantum Tunnel had been running now for nearly an hour, and the generators looked like they were on their last legs. Natasha and Steve stood by, ready to kill the power at the precise moment that Bruce indicated.

Suddenly, the scientist pushed down on several switches, and hollered, “KILL IT!” as he mashed down a large button.

Natasha pulled the high-voltage switch, as Bruce continued to hammer at buttons on the control array. The Quantum Tunnel glowed for a moment, as Scott returned from his atomic size, thankfully back to normal.

The face mask on his helmet went up, and Steve was relieved to see that it was their same-old Scott, not a baby or a 12-year-old or an old man. He was back.

“Somebody peed my pants,” Scott griped, uncomfortably.

“Oh, thank God,” Natasha was glad the experiment was over. This method was not going to solve their problem.

“But I don't know if it was baby me or old me,” Scott considered. Then his expression soured even more. “Or just ME me.”

Steve looked at Bruce, incredulous. Undeterred, Bruce held his arms aloft in victory, a broad smile on his face.

“Time travel!” Bruce shouted with glee. “What? I ... I see this as an absolute win.”

Steve shook his head, and walked away. ex7pXPvEMiaE7vo9ukal2iLAkjvHxPZkBr7qwrl7S9y0tIB8MF+/H3MglzyD2Aqc