-Present Day-
The broadcast's presentation of Darren Cross's sales pitch had ignited a firestorm of public outrage.
"That sounds so noble, doesn't it?" someone shouted outside Pym Technologies, where protesters had already begun gathering. "Creating a 'healthy environment' through invisible assassinations? That's just advocating for war crimes!"
"Did you hear that part about surveillance violating their right to self-defense?" another protester called. "Without surveillance, we wouldn't even know we were under attack! We'd just... die mysteriously!"
A woman held up a sign reading: "CROSS TECH = MURDER INC." She addressed the growing crowd: "These people don't care whether we live or die! They only care about profit!"
"The perfect crime!" someone else added, their voice trembling. "Shrink down, kill your target, leave no evidence. It's terrifying!"
The discussion spread across social media like wildfire, with #YellowjacketThreat trending globally within minutes.
But Darren Cross himself was in no position to capitalize on or defend his invention. The broadcast had already shown his fate.
-Broadcast: Cassie's Birthday Party-
The scene shifted to a modest house in a nice suburban neighborhood. Through the windows, children could be seen running around with balloons and party hats. Adults chatted while keeping half an eye on the chaos.
Scott pushed open the front door and stepped inside.
"Daddy!" A little girl—maybe seven years old, with her father's eyes—immediately abandoned her friends and ran straight for him.
Scott crouched down and caught her in a hug, lifting her briefly off the ground. "Peanut! Happy birthday, sweetheart!"
He set her down gently. "I'm so sorry I'm late. I didn't know what time the party started."
Cassie looked up at him with complete innocence. "It was on the invitation, Daddy."
A man's voice cut in, cold and disapproving: "He didn't get an invitation. But he came anyway."
Detective Jim Paxton—Cassie's stepfather-to-be—walked over, his cop's instincts putting him immediately on guard.
Scott stood up, forcing a smile. "Well, I didn't want to miss my little girl's birthday party."
"I'm gonna tell Mommy you're here!" Cassie announced, already turning to run.
"You don't have to—" Scott started, but she was already gone, darting through the crowd of children.
The moment Cassie was out of earshot, Paxton's expression hardened. "What are you doing here, Lang? You're three months behind on child support. I could arrest you right now if I wanted to."
Scott kept his voice level despite the provocation. "Good to see you too, Paxton."
Cassie came running back, her face lit up with excitement. "Mommy's so happy you're here! She started choking on her water!"
At seven, she didn't yet understand that her mother's reaction wasn't joy—it was shock and dismay.
But Scott understood perfectly. He nodded a few times, swallowing his disappointment.
"Hey, look what I brought you!" Scott held out a wrapped package, desperate to change the subject.
"Can I open it now?" Cassie's eyes went wide.
Paxton answered before Scott could. "Of course, sweetie. It's your birthday."
Cassie tore into the wrapping paper and pulled out a plush toy rabbit with a slightly deranged grin. She pressed a button on its paw.
"You're my bestest friend!" the rabbit chirped in a tinny, vaguely unsettling voice.
Paxton frowned at the toy. "What... is that supposed to be?"
But Cassie's reaction was pure delight. "It's so ugly! I love it!"
She hugged the rabbit tight. "Can I go show my friends?"
Again, Paxton answered before Scott could get a word in. "Sure, honey. Go ahead."
Cassie ran off, the rabbit still repeating its phrase: "You're my bestest friend! You're my bestest friend!"
Once she was safely out of earshot, Scott turned to Paxton. "Look, I know I owe child support. I'm working on it. But it's hard for someone with a record to find decent work—"
"You'll figure it out," Paxton interrupted. "But right now, I need you to leave. This is my house."
"Today is my daughter's birthday!" Scott's voice rose. "I have every right to—"
"This is my house," Paxton repeated coldly.
"She's my daughter!"
"Scott!" A woman's voice cut through the argument.
Maggie Lang—now Maggie soon-to-be-Paxton—walked over quickly, her expression a mixture of exasperation and resignation. "You can't just show up unannounced. You know the custody agreement. Please don't do this."
Facing his ex-wife, Scott's anger deflated immediately. "But it's her birthday party, Maggie."
"I know what day it is," Maggie said quietly. "But you can't just appear whenever you want. That's not how this works."
"She's my daughter," Scott said, his voice breaking slightly. "Do you understand that?"
Paxton, still hovering nearby, couldn't resist adding: "Maybe try acting like a father, then."
Scott looked at Maggie, his patience finally exhausted. "Okay, you know what? We were married. We loved each other once. So I'm just gonna say it: your fiancé is a dork."
"He is not a dork!" Maggie's automatic defense of Paxton lacked conviction.
"Hey! Watch your mouth!" Paxton stepped forward, fists clenching.
"What? I said 'dork,'" Scott repeated. "It's not exactly a curse word."
Seeing another argument brewing, Maggie grabbed Scott's arm and steered him toward the door. She called over her shoulder: "Just give me a minute, Jim. I'll handle this."
Outside on the front lawn, away from the party noise, Scott's frustration boiled over. "Are you kidding me, Maggie? That guy? You could have dated anyone—literally anyone—and you get engaged to a cop?"
Maggie crossed her arms, looked down at the grass, and gave a small, bitter smile. "At least he's not a criminal."
The words hit Scott like a physical blow.
His shoulders sagged. "I'm trying, okay? I've changed. I'm going straight. I had a job—I really did—and I..." He ran his hand through his hair. "I want to provide for her. I spend every day thinking about her, missing her. I love her so much, Maggie. I've already missed so many birthdays, so many first days of school. I just want to be part of her life. Tell me what to do."
Maggie's expression softened slightly. "Get an apartment. Find a stable job. Pay the child support you owe. Then we can talk about regular visitation. I promise." She paused, her voice gentler. "You're her hero, Scott. In her eyes, you can do no wrong. So you need to actually be that person. Not just talk about it."
Scott nodded slowly, tears threatening at the corners of his eyes. "Okay. I will. I promise."
-Present Day-
Tony looked at Scott, who'd been watching his own broadcast in silence. "So, are you planning to bring your daughter to live with you? Once this is all over?"
Scott raised his hand as if to answer, then let it drop. "I... I don't know. It's too dangerous, what we do. I can't give her a stable home. Not like this."
Captain America leaned forward. "With respect, Scott—she's in danger right now. The moment you appeared in that broadcast, every enemy of the Avengers learned about her existence. Learned she's your weakness."
"Steve's right," Natasha added. "Peter lives here now. Harry's sister visits regularly—she's not much older than Cassie. They'd be friends. And you'd be able to protect her directly instead of hoping Paxton can handle threats he doesn't even understand."
Scott was quiet for a long moment. Then he pulled out his phone. "You're right. I need to call Maggie. Explain what's happening. Get Cassie somewhere safe before someone tries to use her against us."
He walked away to make the call, his voice already apologetic: "Maggie? I know this is sudden, but we need to talk about Cassie..."
The others watched him go, each thinking the same thing: the broadcast was exposing their loved ones to danger just as surely as it was warning them of threats to come.
The price of knowledge was higher than anyone had anticipated.