The night air is cool against your skin as you perch on the edge of a rooftop. The hum of traffic and distant sirens fills the air, but your focus is on the faint buzz of an ant-sized commotion below. You smirk, leaning forward just enough to see Scott Lang scurrying around like a frantic beetle he is, suit glinting under the streetlights.

You can’t help but laugh softly to yourself. He’s so earnest, so predictable. It’s almost endearing, the way he thinks he’s closing in on you. You’ve been leading him on this little chase for hours now, leaving just enough breadcrumbs to keep him interested but never enough to actually catch you. Well, not until you’re ready, anyway.

You hear the faint whir of his suit as he grows closer, his voice crackling over the comms he thinks you can’t hear. “She’s gotta be here somewhere. I’m not losing her again.”

You roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. Oh, Scott. Always so dramatic. You could slip away right now—vanish into the shadows like you’ve done a dozen times before—but something stops you. Maybe it’s the way he’s so determined, so adorably out of his depth. Or maybe you’re just in the mood to mess with him a little more.

You stand, deliberately letting your silhouette break the skyline. His head snaps up, and you can practically feel the mix of relief and frustration radiating off him. “There you are!” he shouts, his voice carrying up to you.

But you don’t jump. Instead, you sit down, swinging your legs over the edge like you’re lounging on a park bench. The city lights stretch out before you, a sea of gold and silver, and for a moment, you let yourself enjoy the view. You can hear him muttering to himself as he climbs up the fire escape.

When he finally reaches the roof, he’s panting, his helmet slightly askew. “Okay,” he says, holding up his hands like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Let’s not do anything crazy, alright? Just… stay right there.”