Marvel: Father of Superheroes

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The chef placed two tightly sealed meal trays in front of Mike and Hank Pym.

Before they were even opened, Mike caught a whiff of a sour, pungent smell. Clark, with his super-sensitive nose, looked positively green with disgust.

Hank Pym smiled at Mike and said, "As the father of Clark and the others, surely you can handle this, right?"

Mike chuckled, replying, "If you dare, I'll dare too!"

Hank Pym gave the chef a knowing glance.

The chef rumbled, "Please, do enjoy."

With that, he swiftly lifted the covers off the meals and turned to quickly push the serving cart away.

Watching the chef's exaggerated movements, Mike initially thought he was overdoing it.

But as the covers were removed, the putrid stench—almost tangible, as if blowing a battle cry into his face—made Mike feel that the chef was, in fact, a wise man.

"Herring, a rare delicacy!" Hank Pym introduced, his own face showing signs of distress.

He had tried this dish a few times, with the aim of defeating Mike, though each attempt had been as traumatic as the last. Still...

He glanced at Mike, noticing his face contorting in a way that seemed to melt all his features together, and he couldn't help but feel satisfied.

"Ugh! Oh no!"

The four kids covered their noses and mouths in agony, running away from the table, eyes wide with horror at the two trays.

Charles looked at the table and exclaimed, "What on earth is that thing?"

Hope's voice trembled, "Herring, canned herring."

"No, that's crap!" Erik shouted, holding his nose.

Clark delivered the final blow, "That's even worse than crap!"

The four exchanged a look and, once again, retreated.

Hank Pym, fighting the urge to cover his nose, adopted the most composed demeanor he could manage. He sliced a piece of herring with his knife and fork, shoved it into his mouth, and chewed quickly, trying to bear the stench as he threw a provocative glance at Mike.

Seeing this, Mike's eye twitched.

Erik, shouting from the side, cried, "Hope, look! Your dad actually ate it!"

Hope retorted, "He's not my dad, that's so disgusting!"

With that, she backed away several steps.

Clark and the others followed her lead, stepping back.

Hank Pym's eye twitched, and he turned to Mike. "Your turn. If you can't do it, just admit defeat—it's not embarrassing."

Mike scoffed, "What's so bad about it?"

He, too, cut a piece and, with a distorted face, placed it in his mouth.

Instantly, a wave of nausea spread through his mouth, the horrific taste like a tornado crashing into his brain, leaving him dizzy and disoriented.

Clark and the others shuddered, exchanged a glance with Hope, and sprinted for the door.

The foul stench in the room grew unbearable, and they couldn't take it any longer.

"Ha! Impressive!" Hank Pym chuckled, surprised that Mike actually went through with it. Without missing a beat, he cut a larger piece and popped it into his mouth.

Mike was in it to win it!

Hank Pym, take another piece!

Mike was determined!

Hank Pym, all in!

Mike put down his knife and fork, a smirk playing on his lips. "Impressive! You win!"

Hank Pym stood there, stunned. His eyes fixed on the plate in front of Mike, which still had more than half a piece of herring, and then he looked at his own clean plate. Trembling, he pointed at Mike. "You despicable bastard!"

Mike smiled faintly, calmly stood up, and then... dashed straight for the bathroom.

Hank Pym hesitated for a moment, covering his mouth, then chased after him. After being locked out of the bathroom, he fought the rising urge to vomit. With incredible willpower, he held it together long enough to rush upstairs to the second-floor bathroom.

Then...

"Ugh..."

The kids stood outside, making disgusted faces as they heard the noise from inside.

A while later, after Mike had finally finished vomiting, the bathroom was completely contaminated. Still battling the overwhelming stench, Mike searched for a card that might help solve his current predicament.

He used two healing cards, but they had no effect other than giving him a burst of energy. Frustrated, Mike abandoned the attempt.

This wasn't a sickness at all.

He left the bathroom, closed the door tightly, but quickly realized it didn't even matter.

The entire house was now permeated with the unbearable foul stench.

Mike walked briskly toward the door, only to stop when he saw the four kids. To his surprise, they all took two steps back in unison.

"Dad, are you okay?" Clark couldn't help but ask.

Mike pressed his stomach and replied, "I'm fine, at least better than Hank."

"But you lost!"

Hank wiped his mouth as he staggered out, his legs still trembling slightly. Yet, he stubbornly lifted his chin.

"Well!" Mike laughed, "So I lost, but at least I ate less than you."

Hank Pym was visibly frustrated.

Just then, Charles muttered under his breath, "What's the difference between eating a piece of shit and eating a whole lump of it?"

Clark and the others nodded in agreement.

Mike and Hank Pym exchanged a glance and stubbornly retorted, "Of course, there's a difference!"

"I ate less than him!"

"I won!"

The stubbornness of middle-aged men...

Hope pinched her nose and said, "Stay away from us, it's unbearable! Please, let's end this disgusting conversation already!"

With Hope's words, the topic was finally laid to rest.

However, the entire house had already been contaminated.

Two hours later, Clark asked, "Who's going to check if the smell is gone yet?"

"I'm not going!" Erik shook his head.

Hope said, "You're not really going to make me, the poor girl, go, are you?"

"Let's go together," Charles suggested.

The four of them reached a consensus and headed toward the house. As they opened the door, the foul stench rushed into their noses once more.

Closing the door, they looked toward Mike and Hank Pym.

Mike hesitated for a moment and then glanced at Hank Pym.

Hank Pym: "?"

The house was uninhabitable now, at least not until the stench cleared.

Given the circumstances, Mike's family and Hank's family had no choice but to grab their luggage and head to the nearest hotel.

That night, the second battle began, courtesy of the hot pot ingredients Mike had brought along.

It was delicious, but it was also extremely spicy.

Hank Pym thought he had secretly adapted to Mike's fiery red hot pot soup, but this time he discovered that Mike's hot pot was even spicier.

Hot pot with white wine. Hank Pym looked at this familiar combination and, while maintaining a composed face, felt like his heart was drowning in sorrow.

Thankfully, I made an appointment with the doctor in advance...

Hank Pym comforted himself, closed his eyes, and downed a glass of white wine.

In the end, Hank Pym got drunk again, becoming a completely different man from his sober self—one who seemed carefree, yet melancholic.

After sending him back to the opposite suite, Mike thought about Hank Pym's fate the next day, which made him feel rather pleased.

(End of chapter)