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Scott was embedded in the wall, forming an inverted shape of 'Star', his head buried in the plaster.
The sight startled even Arthur. This kind of thing usually only happens in anime, right?
Approaching, he heard Scott say, "I'm starting to believe you're really a superhero."
Arthur nodded. "Thanks."
He reached out to 'pull' Scott from the wall, but halfway through, the man forming the 'Star' shape suddenly vanished. In his place, a tiny figure rapidly closed in, emitting a faint "Ah!"
With full momentum and reckless abandon, the figure crashed into Arthur's palm with a splat and slowly fell to the ground.
Arthur crouched down. "Are you okay? I think there's been a misunderstanding. I told you to ambush me, not... launch a suicidal attack like this."
"I thought I was ambushing you," Scott said quietly, but Arthur could hear him clearly.
Arthur chuckled. "You need to understand the true meaning of an ambush. Otherwise, you'll be getting beaten up for three minutes every day."
Without continuing to "play with his food" by beating up the rookie, Arthur turned and left the basement.
Scott's body had recovered normally. Protected by his battle suit and Arthur's careful control of his strikes, he hadn't suffered any serious injuries. He simply rolled onto his side and sat up on the ground, beginning to strategize.
"Ambush?" Scott muttered. "Shouldn't I be throwing a punch before he has a chance to react? Or maybe delivering a fatal blow when he doesn't even know I'm there?"
...
"Thinking is the first lesson in combat."
In his study, Hank gently clapped his hands. "The brilliance lies in how he teaches his students to think for themselves, rather than endlessly repeating the same useless points."
Hope nodded. "That's a valuable skill. Perhaps he truly has some talent."
"Don't underestimate him," Hank said, glancing at his daughter. "You should know that despite being active as a superhero in this world, there's almost no news about him. He's not Iron Man or the Hulk. Iron Man's exploits are reported daily, and the Hulk helping old ladies across the street is always in the news. But he's different... He's constantly active, yet there's never any mention of him. What do you think that means?"
Hope frowned, having an idea but unwilling to voice it.
Hank smiled. "You guessed correctly."
"I haven't even said anything yet..." Hope rolled his eyes.
"I know you better than you know yourself," Hank said, waving his hand dismissively. "For someone like him to be willing to mentor Scott, that's truly exciting."
"Perhaps we should delve deeper into his motives?"
"The motive is simple." Hank glanced at the monitor and saw Arthur in the living room, raising his cup in a toast to the camera.
He smiled faintly and continued, "And that's exactly what I'm considering."
Hope fell silent, turning his gaze to the window. "Let's hope this is the right move."
...
Half an hour passed, not long, not short, but the result was clear: Scott stood no chance.
Moreover, his attempt to use his size to hide himself had failed utterly.
Arthur was like a monster with countless eyes, effortlessly finding Scott no matter where he hid, even behind a coffee cup in a cabinet.
Smiling, he announced, "Next, combat training."
"I don't think this is fair," Scott protested, emerging from the cabinet and restoring his original size. "I know nothing about you."
Arthur considered this. "What kind of information do you want?"
"Which superhero are you?"
Scott's reasoning was simple: knowing the identity of a superhero would give him a general idea of their abilities.
In the information age, superheroes were hardly a secret. Enthusiasts had posted basic details on numerous forums.
Some worshipped them, others cursed and attacked them, while a dedicated few analyzed their powers, adding their own theories and decryption methods.
Though no one had ever successfully tested these methods, it was better than having no leads at all.
...
Arthur shook his head with a smile. "When you can last three minutes under my fist, I'll tell you who I am. Until then... we continue."
Scott gritted his teeth and followed Arthur into the basement.
What was supposed to be sparring was really just getting beaten up.
In three minutes, he hadn't even come close to trading blows with Arthur, let alone touched his clothes.
When the time was up, Scott's face was a colorful mess. He stared blankly and said, "I thought you wouldn't use your full strength during training?"
"Believe me, if I had, you wouldn't be able to say that now." Arthur flipped his palm, and a syringe materialized in his hand.
"How did you do that?" Scott stared in astonishment, grabbing Arthur's hand to examine it repeatedly. "Magic?"
"You can guess using your own understanding," Arthur said with a smile. "Now, if you don't want to be unable to get up tomorrow, you can inject this. Of course, you can consider it, but you only have ten minutes. After that, the contents will become nothing more than pure water."
"This gives me a bad feeling," Scott said, holding the syringe and staring at the dark green liquid inside. "Are you sure this isn't the latest designer drug?"
"It's far more expensive than any drug," Arthur replied with a smile. "If you don't use it today, I won't give it to you next time. Anyway, I'm leaving now, my girlfriend's off work."
He grabbed his jacket and left without even saying goodbye to Hank.
Scott walked to the door with the syringe in hand. After Arthur drove off in his eye-catching supercar, he turned around and found Hank and Hope standing there.
"He said... this stuff can be injected?" Scott asked, holding up the syringe. "It looks highly suspicious."
Hank glanced at Hope, who nodded. He took the syringe from Scott. Scott nodded in satisfaction. "I knew it. This thing is definitely problematic. You can analyze it. If there's any issue, Ouch!"
Before he could finish, he felt a sharp prick in his neck. He turned to see Hope injecting the dark green liquid into his own body.
(End Of This Chapter)