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**Scott Lang.**
The second Ant-Man.
And also the key to reversing the Snap crisis.
Without his existence, the half of all life that vanished with Thanos's snap would have been lost forever, with no possibility of revival.
While someone as brilliant as Tony Stark could theoretically create a time-travel device, without Ant-Man's Pym Particles, such efforts would remain a pipe dream.
From this perspective, Scott's existence was vital. If there was a way to rescue him from the Quantum Realm earlier, perhaps reversing Thanos's snap wouldn't even require five years.
But at the moment, Luke had no clue where Scott might be trapped.
And for now, he had something far more pressing to attend to.
After a brief hesitation, Luke closed his notebook, tucked his phone away, and swiftly exited his apartment.
The hallway outside was in shambles, with bits of wall plaster scattered everywhere. Fine cracks ran through some sections of the walls, hair-thin yet unnervingly sinister.
This was a building over twenty stories tall. If it truly collapsed, the remaining occupants would lose their lives—a death from which there was no coming back this time.
Following the shaky arrows on the dangling ceiling signs, Luke quickly found the emergency exit. There was no way he'd dare to take the elevator in a situation like this.
Racing down the stairs, he could hear shouting and crying from various floors, but none of these noises made him pause. Instead, they urged him to quicken his pace.
This was his first assignment from his "superior," the first step toward establishing himself in this world. Success was his only option—failure was not an option.
Once outside, as Luke stood on the city streets, the full weight of the devastation hit him.
This bustling, vibrant metropolis now resembled a disaster zone of unspeakable proportions. Buildings in the distance were engulfed in flames, yet no firefighters were in sight.
The streets were filled with the injured, moaning in pain from car crashes and pileups, yet no one stepped forward to help.
The entire safety infrastructure of New York—perhaps the entire world—had collapsed.
Police, doctors, and other public workers were all consumed with one singular concern: whether their own loved ones were safe. No one had time to care about anyone else.
"Help me, please! Save my child, sir!"
As Luke hesitated, a woman suddenly threw herself at his feet.
Her face was twisted with desperation, and she clutched a handful of ash in her blood-streaked hands, crawling toward Luke in madness.
"Please, sir, I beg you—save my child! I can't lose him!"
Her child was beyond saving, as irretrievable as the other ashes that had drifted away with the wind.
Luke instinctively stepped back, dodging her grasp, and without a moment's hesitation, he skirted around her and hurried forward.
The woman's cries continued behind him, but Luke didn't look back.
Scanning his surroundings, he quickly spotted his target—a white sedan parked on the side of the road.
From the ashes on the driver's seat, it was clear the car's owner had been trying to flee when the Snap occurred, only to vanish before they could even fasten their seatbelt.
Opening the car door, Luke reached down to pick up the keys from where they'd fallen near the accelerator, then swiftly got into the driver's seat.
He didn't know how far Fury's location was from here, nor was he familiar with the nearby streets. Thankfully, the car's GPS was still functional, and it didn't take long to map out a suitable route.
Starting the car, Luke's heart raced.
His mind was in turmoil, overwhelmed with worries about being exposed by S.H.I.E.L.D. or losing the pager to someone else.
It wasn't until the vehicle began moving that his trembling hands began to steady. Watching the scenery flash past the windows, he rubbed his temples.
It all felt like a nightmare.
*"At least I won't be short on material for performances now,"* Luke thought, forcing a bitter laugh. His focus alternated between the GPS and the road, wary of taking a wrong turn.
The place where Fury and Hill had vanished was closer than Luke had anticipated.
As he approached the scene, two blocks away, he noticed the gridlock caused by the wreckage of a helicopter crash. It suddenly clicked—this was the same helicopter Fury had been in moments before he vanished.
No wonder the woman had bypassed protocol to contact Kaya's phone. Luke happened to be closest to Fury's location.
A runaway bus had destroyed a fire hydrant, leaving the road ahead flooded. Combined with a massive pileup of vehicles, it was impossible to proceed further by car.
Getting out, Luke headed toward the signal source, phone in hand. According to the GPS, he was now practically on top of his target.
Ignoring his soaked pant legs, Luke weaved through the wreckage of cars, his eyes scanning the ground.
Navigating among the unstable vehicles was risky; some were already smoking, threatening to explode at any moment. If one went off, there'd be no chance of survival amidst the pileup.
*"Did someone already snatch it?"*
Minutes ticked by, and Luke grew increasingly anxious.
The signal on his phone only pointed to Fury's vehicle, not the pager itself. The pager, an item known only to a handful within S.H.I.E.L.D., wasn't equipped with a tracker.
Recovering it was likely a contingency Fury had left behind. After all, it was the only way to contact Captain Marvel. Losing it was not an option.
Just as Luke was sweating with frustration, a glint of light caught his eye.
Amid a shallow puddle of water, half-submerged, lay the pager. Its metallic casing reflected the sunlight, flashing faintly.
Relief washed over Luke as he quickened his steps, maneuvering around a black sedan and grabbing the pager in one swift motion.
The object felt cold and solid in his hands.
In that moment, blood-red text appeared in midair before Luke's eyes:
**[Intergalactic Pager]**
**Object**
**A relic of Kree technology. This ancient communicator allows the user to transmit their thoughts across the stars to other beings.**
*(End of Chapter)*