The eighth ring of Solomon -203

The situation didn't evolve as Hank Pym had expected. He wasn't taken to a nice room with fancy chairs and a projector where he could show off his presentation. Instead, he found himself in a large, empty room, and worse yet, he found himself tied to a chair.

"Hey!? What is the meaning of this? Let me go!" He angrily shouted, struggling against the bindings. He wished he had some of his tech with him, but he currently had nothing since he had been stripped over everything in the name of safety.

The guards ignored him and just stood around, ready to act to protect their boss, who would be arriving at any moment.

Outside the room, Alexander quickly made his way over after having been told that everything was ready. He was dressed in his black Nanosuit. He entered the room, greeted by the sight and shouts of Hank Pym, who wasn't at all happy about him being there.

"Ah, Hank," Alexander began, his voice calm and authoritative. "We need to have a discussion."

"This isn't a discussion!" Hank spat. "This is an interrogation! Let me go!"

Alexander raised a hand, and the guards relaxed slightly though they remained alert. "Yes, you will be released in a few moments, but this conversation needs some extra protection," he said, moving a hand to the glowing Foundation symbol on his chest. At that point, his suit was retracted back into the small pin on his suit.

Hank's eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the man in front of him. His face pale as if he had seen a ghost. "Impossible… you are dead! Everything saw it, saw you die… Alexander Ricci." He gasped out in disbelief.

"Please, call me Alexander, and I assure you, I am very much alive… something you won't be for long." Alexander started with a light tone that quickly grew icy cold.

Hank's anger turned to confusion and fear. "What are you talking about? Why would you threaten me?"

Alexander stepped closer, his expression hardening. "You've been reckless, Hank. You've endangered not just yourself but countless others. The Foundation operates with strict protocols for a reason. Your arrogance is a liability we cannot afford."

Hank's defiance flickered as he processed Alexander's words. "I was making progress. Real progress. You're the ones holding me back with all your rules and red tape!"

Alexander's gaze bore into Hank's. "Progress without caution is disaster. You're a brilliant mind, Hank, but your inability to see beyond your own ego makes you dangerous. The test we arranged for you wasn't just a measure of your capabilities. It was a measure of your judgment. And you failed."

Hank's eyes narrowed. "You set me up to fail?"

"No," Alexander replied, his voice calm but firm. "We set you up to understand the importance of collaboration and adherence to protocol. The fact that you see it as a setup only proves my point."

Hank struggled against his bindings once more, but Alexander's words had struck a chord. He knew he had been pushing boundaries, but he hadn't seen it as recklessness. Now, faced with the consequences, the weight of his actions began to settle in.

"Hank, I have come here not to discuss this with you, nor to give you another chance, but to give you the honor of dying to my hand. I brought you into the Foundation, by order, got you here, and my hand shall send you away; be honored about that fact."

Hank's eyes widened in shock and fear. "What? You can't do this! I'm too valuable to the Foundation! My work is essential!"

Alexander shook his head slowly. "Your work is valuable, but your lack of discipline and respect for the protocols makes you a greater threat than an asset. We can't afford to have someone like you jeopardizing everything we've built."

Hank struggled harder against his bindings, desperation setting in. "Please, Alexander! I can change! I'll follow the rules, I'll do whatever you say, just don't kill me!"

Alexander's expression remained cold and resolute. "It's too late for that, Hank. You've had your chances, and you've squandered them. This is the end of the line."

Alexander rubbed his thumps over the two rings he wore, one on each hand.

The ring on his left hand was a simple gold band, and within it were carved white characters. They were the ancient Hebrew for life, this was the ring of life, which had once been disguised as the ring of nine cats, an illusion he had long since seen thought.

On his right hand, he wore another simple gold band with ancient Hebrew text, this time written in black. The word death was spelled out, for this was the ring of death.

He couldn't help but remember back to the time he had gotten these two rings, so very very long ago.

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[Flashback]

In a stone chamber lighted only by the flickering lights of five touches stood no other furniture than a single table; it was wooden and well made, masterfully carved into the tables. Fight legs were words in different languages, though a few of them were Latin.

Other then the lone table and the five touches, the only other feature of the room was the five doorways, each one barely illuminated by the fire.

In the center of the table was a bloody dagger stabbed into the wood, though the blood long since dried out. In a circle around the dagger was a total of ten rings, some simple golden bands and others having large gemstones inserted into them.

Around the table stood five people, four men, and a single woman. Three of the men wore armor, Alexander being one of them. he stood at the table, his armor on his body, at his hip, his sword, and across his back, his spear.

He looked at the other people, who all looked back at him. "I will be choosing first, and I want the first ring, the ring of life." He said, and his words got quite a reaction from the others, though one person, a man also dressed in armor standing directly across Alexander, had the biggest reaction by far.

"The first ring is by far the most valuable one; why should you have that one?"

Alexander met his gaze evenly. "Because I was the first, I recruited all of you, I lead you against Solomon, that is why I will take the first, and I shall take the eighth as well, the most valuable and the least valuable, that is fair."

The man clenched his fists, clearly not satisfied with his reasoning, but before he could speak up, the lone woman spoke. "Julius, let Alexander have his pick, we all owe him a great deal, this can repay that."

The man quickly looked over. "Even you take his side, Cleopatra?" He said before looking at the unarmoured man. "And what say you, Marcus?"

"Let him have it. The others are plenty useful already, and we hardly need the ring's abilities; we have the well." He too gave Alexander his support.

Alexander nodded in acknowledgment, then carefully picked up the ring of life, sliding it onto his left hand. He then reached for the ring of death, placing it on his right hand. The weight of the responsibility and power felt heavy yet fitting as he clasped the rings.

Julius, visibly displeased but understanding the necessity of unity among them, finally nodded. "Fine, Alexander, take them. But remember, we all share this burden and its consequences."

Cleopatra, always the mediator, added, "It's settled then. We must focus on what comes next. These rings, though powerful, are but tools. It's our wisdom and leadership that will define our paths."

With the division of the rings decided, each member of the group selected their own with a sense of solemn duty. The rings were not merely adornments but symbols of their roles and the tasks ahead in shaping and protecting the realms influenced by Solomon's legacy.

[Flashback end]

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He still remembered it clearly; the meeting had been right after killing Solomon and right before Alexander had arranged for the old fool's burial. A final honor he would bestow onto the man who had shown him a world so much larger than even his empire.

Alexander's moment of pause as he immersed himself in his memory hadn't calmed down Pym at all, and he was struggling and shouting more than ever.

Alexander's thoughts pulled back to the present as the noise from Hank Pym became too loud to ignore. He turned his attention back to the distressed scientist, whose face was now red from exertion and fear.

"Silence, Hank. This is your reality now," Alexander spoke with a cool detachment that belied the turmoil of memories he had just revisited. His hand hovered over the ring of death, a symbol of finality that seemed all too fitting in this moment.

Hank stopped struggling, his eyes fixed on the ominous gold band on Alexander's right hand. "You're really going to kill me over this? Over breaking some protocols?" His voice was a mix of anger and disbelief.

Alexander sighed, a trace of regret flitting across his features. "The Foundation is the ones protecting this world and humanity itself. By going against us, you go against all of mankind, and you, Hank, would go against us for your own goals, and that isn't something I can allow."

Hank was clearly not ready to accept his death, but Alexander was finished talking and motioned for his men to act. One stepped up behind Hank and gripped his head with both hands, holding it still.

Alexander then walked over, getting within reach of the man and slowly lifted up his right hand, with his index finger extended he slowly moved it towards Hank's exposed forehead, the guard grew more and more nervous as the finger got closer, holding tightly.

He was afraid that Hank might manage to turn his head, so it would be his hand that would be touched rather than his head. The guard had seen his boss do this before and knew the dangers well.

Finally, under a roar from Pym, Alexander lightly placed the tip of his finger on his forehead, and instantly the man went completely limp.

"And so ends the Ant-man, a brilliant scientist and a once hero who was willing to sacrifice to save others. You either die a hero or live long enough to become the villain; remember that." Alexander said to the guards and himself as he turned around.

"Dispose of his body… and of his daughter… no loose ends," he ordered as he left with most of his guards.

A/N

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