Scott quickly removed his helmet, gasping for air.
"Not bad. You passed the initial test. You can keep the suit for now—I'll contact you again."
The voice echoed once more, but Scott had no mind to care anymore. That heart-pounding ordeal had nearly given him a heart attack. He didn't want to experience anything like that again.
He hurried back to his apartment, stuffed the suit into his backpack, and waited for nightfall.
---
When night came, Scott sprinted straight toward the villa from before—too anxious to even bother with a car, relying entirely on his legs.
Just as Skye locked up the office downstairs, she saw a man with a backpack dash past the entrance in a blur.
Curious, she stepped outside to take a look—but the man had already turned a corner and vanished into the night.
"Strange… what's his rush? Did he get robbed?"
She glanced around, but saw no sign of trouble. Confused, she locked the door and headed upstairs.
Karl had seen it too—but he wasn't interested.
In a city like New York, where anything could happen, this was nothing unusual. Aliens had already invaded—what couldn't happen at this point?
Besides, he was just an ordinary person now. Staying home was the safest option.
The door opened behind him as Skye walked in.
"Some guy just sprinted past downstairs. No idea what happened."
She casually mentioned it while brewing tea for both of them.
"Yeah, I saw him. Not our problem—I'm just a regular civilian now."
Karl watched the tea leaves unfurl in the glass pot, mentally calculating the time.
Three months still felt far away—only one had passed so far.
"Have Natasha and Steve been busy? Haven't seen them in a while."
"Natasha's on a mission overseas, I think. As for Steve… who knows? He's basically a homebody like you."
Skye shrugged. Natasha had mentioned in their group chat that she'd be abroad on a classified mission—no one asked further.
"Since we're bored, let's go feed the chocobos."
With that, Karl and Skye entered the Chocobo Space.
---
Meanwhile, Scott vaulted over the villa wall in one smooth motion—fast and efficient, like he couldn't wait to get it over with.
He slipped inside, rushed to the vault, returned the suit to its original place, and made his exit just as quickly.
A perfect in-and-out.
But the moment he climbed back over the wall—
Red and blue lights flashed all around him.
Police cars surrounded him instantly.
"Don't move! Hands on your head—you're under arrest!"
"Damn it… my luck sucks today…"
Scott muttered, then obediently crouched down with his hands on his head.
"I didn't steal anything! I came to return it!"
The officers ignored him completely. Within seconds, he was pinned, cuffed, and shoved into a squad car.
Just like that—
Scott Lang was back in custody.
---
At the police station, his ex-wife's fiancé leaned against the holding cell, looking disappointed.
"You almost had us believing you'd turned your life around, Scott. Maggie and Cassie trusted you… and you let them down again."
Scott stayed silent.
He knew Paxton wasn't a bad guy—just a cop doing his job.
Before he could respond, another officer walked in.
"Someone's here to see you."
"Who?"
"Your lawyer."
Scott blinked. "My… lawyer?"
---
In the interrogation room, Scott finally met him—
An elderly man with gray hair, wearing a well-tailored suit and glasses.
"I told you I'd contact you again, Scott."
The moment he spoke, Scott froze.
That voice—
It was the same one from the helmet.
Before Scott could react, the old man continued calmly.
"I suppose you'd rather be back in a cell. Sit."
Scott sat down. The room was empty—just the two of them.
In the corner, the surveillance camera was completely covered… by ants.
"Sir… I'm sorry for stealing the suit. I didn't mean to—"
"Maggie was right about you."
Scott stiffened.
"How do you know Maggie?"
The old man ignored the question.
"No wonder she wants you to stay away from Cassie. The moment things get tough, you fall back into crime."
Scott lowered his head, ashamed.
It wasn't that he didn't want to change.
It was just that no one gave him a chance.
No one would hire an ex-con—not even for the lowest-paying job.
---
The old man leaned forward slightly.
"You have two choices."
Scott looked up.
"First: spend the rest of your life in prison."
"Second: go back to your cell… and wait for my instructions."
"I don't understand what you're saying."
"You don't need to. You don't have many options anyway."
The old man spread his hands.
"Frankly, neither do I."
Then, with a faint smile, he added:
"Did it never occur to you… that I led you to that suit from the very beginning?"
"…What?!"
Scott stared at him in shock.
"I planted the information. Made sure your talkative friend Luis heard it. Step by step, I guided you… until you stole the suit."
Scott was speechless.
"This kind of opportunity doesn't come often," the old man said, standing up.
"If you get another one… I suggest you think very carefully."
With that, he turned and left.
The ants covering the camera dispersed, restoring the feed—leaving Scott sitting there, stunned.
---
Back in the holding area, Scott was still processing everything.
He didn't even notice the ant that had flown in from outside—
Until it crawled up to his feet.
Only then did he finally look down.
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