It was no longer the city that never sleeps.

In the five years since Thanos had snapped his fingers and changed the face of reality, the world had altered drastically. Nowhere was it more evident than in New York City. With half the population gone, the island of Manhattan and the surrounding boroughs had withered. Abandoned boats crowded the Hudson and East rivers, their services no longer required.

Nature had started to reclaim its birthright as vines crawled around buildings. Citi Field, once home to the New York Mets, had fallen into disrepair, surrendering itself to the overgrowth of vegetation.

And how were the inhabitants of New York City coping five years along?

Just barely.

“So, I, uh, I went on a date the other day,” recounted a man. He sat on a folding chair amid a circle of people who listened quietly. “It's the first time in five years. And you know, I'm sitting there at dinner. I didn't even know what to talk about.”

Steve Rogers was seated among them. The room was small, well-lit, clean. He looked at the man sympathetically. “What did you talk about?” he asked.

“Eh, same old crap,” the man answered, trying to bring some levity to the somber setting. “You know, how things have changed, and my job, his job, how much we miss the Mets. And then things got quiet and then he cried as they were serving the salads.”

“What about you?” questioned another man seated next to him.

“I cried, just before dessert,” the man admitted. “But I'm seeing him again tomorrow, so ...” He left off, unsure whether to accept some small measure of hope for a future, any future.

Steve smiled. “That's great. You did the hardest part. You took the jump. You didn't know where you were gonna come down. And that's it. That's those little, brave baby steps we gotta take to try and become whole again, try and find purpose. I went in the ice in Forty-Five, right after I met the love of my life. Woke up seventy years later.” It was an old story he'd clearly told before.

Then Steve held up his hands, and crossed his arms.

“You gotta move on,” he continued. “Gotta move on. The world is in our hands. It's left to us, guys. And we gotta do something with it. Otherwise ... Thanos shoulda killed all of us ...”

The words seemed to echo in the tiny room.

* * *

The warehouse was filthy. For five years, this particular San Francisco U-STORE-It facility had sat, collecting dust, dirt, rodents, insects, and who knows what else. For five years, people's stuff had sat unclaimed, and the managers hadn't done a thing about it except a whole lot of nothing.

The warehouse was comprised of fenced-in pens, each belonging to a different renter. The pens all looked the same. But only one of them had Hank Pym's van.

Rats scurried around the warehouse, and through the various pens. But only one pen had a rat that crawled across the dashboard of Hank Pym's van.

And that rat was the one that stepped on the control panel for the Quantum Tunnel resting in the back of the van. At once, the Quantum Tunnel came to life, its internal mechanisms spinning. Then there was a bright flash of light, and the back doors of the van burst open. A lone figure flew out of the van—it seemed impossibly tiny at first, like the size of an ant.

Then it grew, revealing the red-and-black form of Ant-Man.

Scott Lang crashed into some boxes inside the storage pen, and a large, inflated football fell on top of him. He pushed the football away, as sparks began to fly from the shoulder of his Ant-Man suit. He quickly patted at the flames until they were extinguished. Panting, he sat up, looking at his surroundings, trying to get his bearings.

Then his wrist started to spark, and catch fire. He patted out those flames, too.

“What the hell?” Scott exclaimed, his face mask rising, and he took a deep breath of stale, warehouse air. “Hope?”

* * *

Outside the storage facility, Scott was glad to breathe some actual fresh air. Though it seemed too quiet around him. He felt disoriented, strangely alone. His head ached. What had happened to Hope? To Hank, and Janet? Why had they abandoned him inside the Quantum Realm?

No, not abandoned. He fought that notion. They wouldn't have done that. Something must have happened.

But he had no idea what.

Pulling a cart behind him, Scott had liberated a couple of Hank's shrunken buildings, and some of his personal belongings. He had been lucky to get the attention of the only security guard at the storage facility, by making a HELP sign and waving wildly at the security camera while screaming.

The guard didn't ask him any questions, didn't seem to want to know how he had gotten into the facility, what he was doing there, or if any of the stuff he was taking was actually his or not.

The guard stood there, outside the warehouse, watching Scott as he wheeled his possessions away.

Annoyed, Scott turned around and confronted him, “What?”

The guard shrugged.

* * *

Walking down a residential street, Scott noticed how overgrown everything seemed. Weeds were sprouting between cracks in the sidewalk, wild grass grew on lawns, and tree branches were reaching through downed power lines.

Then there were the posters taped to the telephone poles. They were everywhere. Scott walked up to a pole, and looked at the posters. Missing persons. Tens of them. Hundreds.

More?

He walked by an abandoned car on the street, with bags of trash piled around it. In fact, bags of trash seemed to be everywhere.

What exactly had happened?

Scott's ears perked up as he heard the sound of spinning wheels. He turned around, and saw a kid riding a bicycle.

“Kid!” Scott called out. “Hey, kid!”

The kid hit the brakes, and looked over his shoulder at Scott.

“What the hell happened here?” he asked.

The kid just stared at Scott, and didn't say a word. He wiped his nose, then sped off on his bike.

* * *

The whole city seemed to have turned into a living nightmare. It felt like the place was haunted. Scott had kept on walking, and once he caught sight of the Golden Gate Bridge, headed in that direction. He came upon a large park, full of tall plinths—monoliths. There were crowds of people surrounding them, and Scott pulled his cart along, entering the park.

He stepped in front of a monolith, and saw that there were names etched onto its surface, in alphabetical order. Atop the monolith were the words, THE VANISHED.

“Oh, my god,” Scott started to comprehend, gasping. He raced over to the next monolith, and saw that it, too, was covered in names from top to bottom.

His heart sank, and with every step, Scott felt like he was dying.

He ran from monolith to monolith, searching for the names. His daughter.

She couldn't be on the list. She couldn't.

“Oh please!” Scott begged, as he ran over to a monolith. “No, Cassie, please.”

He pushed a couple out of the way to get a closer look at the names on one monolith, saying, “Excuse me, sorry,” as he hoped he wouldn't find what he was seeking.

Then, “Oh, Cassie, no. No, no. No. No, no, no ...”

He froze when he saw a name that he recognized.

But it wasn't Cassie.

And it wasn't Hope, or Hank, or Janet, or Luis, either.

The name was his own.

SCOTT LANG

“What?” Scott tried to process this, now more confused than ever.

* * *

Scott ran down the overgrown sidewalk, passing a low wall, and onto the lawn of the house he knew all too well. He flew up the steps, and rang the doorbell. Impatient, he pounded his fist on the door immediately after. Then, for good measure, he rang the doorbell again.

He could feel his pulse thundering in his temples, and thought his heart was going to explode.

Then through the window at the entrance, he saw someone moving inside the house. The person opened the door, and stepped outside.

“Cassie?” Scott questioned. He did a double take. He would recognize his peanut anywhere, but his peanut was no longer a little peanut. The last time he had seen his daughter, she was nine years old.

Now she was 14.

Cassie moved toward Scott, touching his face as if to reassure herself that he wasn't a ghost.

“Dad?” She couldn't believe he had come home to her after all this time.

They hugged each other, crying, and laughing.

“You're so big!” Scott tried to accept this new reality, as tears streamed down his face. 7dkkV9U2KSUfz2onZOBEXmbdslOGSN5ZnvWUx3h9hibG0WaCNnSGHgb1MpnWIMcL