Owner	Pose
Scott Lang	The voicemail Scott had received had been a strange one, like a multitude of voices all speaking at once. Some filter to hide the caller's identity he presumed. "South Arch, Central Park, 11 p.m." Click and that was all. Not what he should be looking for or doing or who was involved. But he knew WHAT it was about. "This has gotta be about the phones again," he grinds out as he turns the cell off and changes into his Ant-Man suit.      It was easy enough to hide when you could turn yourself into a speck. So he waited in the shadows beneath a walkway bridge, the furthest one south in Central Park. The moon was long down, only lampposts casting occasional pools of light in the massive park. Truly massive when he was viewing it from this scale, keeping a close eye on any bugs or critters scurrying closer than he'd like. He was getting close to something he just knew it. He just wish he knew WHAT.
Kitty Pryde	Kitty Pryde groaned as she checked the time on her phone again. This was all going wrong. The oddities she'd observed on the dark web a week back had taken up a lot of her free time investigating. Culminating with some information she figured would be better in the hands of another that seemed to already be involved. One Avenger known as Ant-Man. A simple enough plan. The dead drop in Central Park so the information couldn't be intercepted electronically. Only give the Avenger a short time to get to the spot, so Kitty could make the drop and be gone before he arrived. Only she'd been delayed. It couldn't be helped. Cerebro's programming on the fritz and the Professor in urgent need as she was walking out the door. It had only taken her ten minutes working remotely, but that was the ten minute window she had given herself to beat Ant-Man there. Wearing warm slacks and a sweater with a warm jacket over it, Kitty hurries along the Central Park path towards the arch. Another glance at the phone. "Think I'm probably ok," she tells herself. As she passes beneath a foot bridge, she glances about to make sure no one is there, and then draws a quick A on the wall in chalk. A small note goes into a space in the mortar nearby, where she figures Ant-Man should have no problem spotting it. After she continues at her strolling pace. The whole drop only taking four or five seconds.
Scott Lang	'Giants' passing by on the trail at this hour and in this weather were few and far between even in a city this crowded. So it was the young woman heading down the path had his full attention when she scratches out the mark on the wall and sets the package inside. A moment to decide, should he go for the package, or the one delivering it? The girl's shoe thumps down close enough to rattle him, big enough to qualify as a multi-story building to him in this state. Surely the package would still be there later, he had to find out more about her.      Was she in on it? Was she the ringmaster? His paranoid delusions let fly as he leaps, well-practiced at this by now as he launches up and latches into the fibers of her jacket. Glancing down he sees what he'd hoped for, the dark opening of a pocket, and he quickly scuttles down inside of it as she takes her next step. Dropping down into the bottom of the pocket, he briefly turns on his helmet light to look about but nothing stands out beyond the usual pocket detritus...though Scott does take the time to shrink a nickel and stick it in his own pocket. She was probably a criminal, it was likely a STOLEN nickel he tells himself. The light back off he tries his best to steady himself, every step a vibrating thud and a hard jostle. Her hand doesn't seem to be coming back in anytime soon, so he risks growing to a few inches tall instead of ant-size making things moderately more comfortable and waits for the ride to come to an end, going so far as to lay down with his hands set behind his head.
Kitty Pryde	Thankfully it's a nice jacket. Very nice actually. The pocket is a quite soft fabric, even if it sways back and forth with the young woman's steps. The park is fairly quite, with the sounds of city traffic distant, and already lessened by the late hour. It allows Scott Lang to hear the young woman's voice singing to herself softly as she hurries her steps.     The holly green, the ivy green     The prettiest picture you've ever seen     Is Christmas in Killarney     With all of the folks at home     It's nice you know, to kiss your beau     while cuddling under the mistletoe     And Santa Claus, you know of course     Is one of the boys from home. The Irish Rovers song may or may not add to the suspicions of nefarious activity on the young woman's behalf. A pleasant enough voice, though it might take hearing it more to decide if it matches that voice that inquires after your expiring car warranty. Kitty meanwhile, does not realize she has a stow away on board. She hurries out of the park and over to One Madison Park. The doorman greets her. "Evening ma'am," he says, getting a silent wave and smile from Kitty. Then the sound of an elevator chiming, the door opening and closing. A bit of acceleration and deceleration suggests the elevator moved pretty quickly before the door opens again and the woman's footsteps can be heard, two steps and then stopping before the starts forward without the click of her shoes, as if she's taken them off.
Scott Lang	The feel of the elevator was more noticeable at this scale, Scott could feel his ears popping as what was normally a few stories would seem like thousands and thousands of feet difference. Being tiny was, strange. There though, the sound he wanted. A locked door opening and closing. He was in the nefarious lair now. Moving cautiously at his slightly larger size he jumps up and grasps the edge of the pocket and peeks his head over the side...and sees a disappointing lack of nefariousness on display. Even worse he realized she'd taken her shoes off. He'd yet to meet a villain that walked around their lair in socks. Which meant...      "I just broke into the home of a young woman who's alone at night during the holidays. Goddammit Scott," he hisses to himself in a voice so small mice would have trouble hearing it. He'd facepalm if he weren't clutching the edge of her pocket. With a groan he takes another quick look about and then drops back into the bottom of his linty cabin. Fine, he just had to leave then, no harm no foul he told himself as he prepared to shrink back to a less detectable scale, waiting for the pocket to stop shifting, she'd have to remove her jacket soon and then he'd make his escape.
Kitty Pryde	The peek outside the pocket might yield a torture chamber, or perhaps a mad scientist's lab. Except it doesn't. No, it's actually a very expensive-looking penthouse. And one that is well-decorated for the holidays. Consisting of three of the upper-most floors of One Madison Park (58-60), the penthouse boasts full-height window walls that provide the resident with a 360-degree view of Manhattan. The living room is two stories tall and takes up a large portion of one corner of the penthouse. The rest of the first floor consists of a deluxe kitchen that has everything any home cook could ever wish for and a large dining room with a large table that can easily seat ten people. A spiraling staircase and an elevator are both present to provide access to the two upper floors. There is a very large Christmas tree over a story tall in the living room. There is also a Hanukah candle which is still out, though Scott may or may not know that Hanukah is over by now. There are garlands of holly and Christmas lights. There are a larger than normal amount of angels in the decorations. "Lockheed, light that delicious candle for me, would you?" the young woman says as she walks into the living room. "And the fire," she adds, pausing to stretch. And that is when things start to get a little weird. She grabs hold of the back of the neck of the jacket, and then suddenly Scott finds himself falling. Falling through the fabric which he can see, but suddenly it's like it isn't real! The coat is drawn off the young woman without Kitty ever removing it, just phasing the garment off of her. Worse, the phased coat going through the Ant-Man suit might not play well on its electronics.
Scott Lang	A pang of jealousy shoots through Scott at the look he does get. While it might not look sinister she could still be somewhat evil having that kind of money. At least he likes to think so, his entire house not even shrunk plenty capable of fitting inside the penthouse. Grumbling to himself he hears her voice boom out calling for Lockheed. A BUTLER. She had a BUTLER his mind instantly decided. He shakes his head, he had to get out of here, get back to the drop. If there was something truly sinister on it he could always come back here later now, no doubt she wasn't going to pack up and leave tonight with all he was seeing.      And then he was falling. Why was he falling? His stomach leaps into his throat. He was safe at this scale but he hadn't been ready for it, his instincts kicking in and telling him he was about to die...and instead he just thumps on the floor behind her with a faint tap noise. He was about two inches tall, small but certainly visible as he quickly stands up and realizes something is wrong. His helmet, the heads up displays were scrambled static and letters. Already he could hear her moving above him, not knowing whether she'd heard him or not. No matter, he just had to shrink out of sight. He pushes the button on his glove...nothing happens. A very unholiday spirit word sounds out from him as finally something does appear on his helmet display. "REBOOT IN 10:00...9:59....9:58." The same word, louder this time. He starts to run, angling his way for the nearest piece of heavy furniture he might get under, acting more like a cockroach than an ant.
Kitty Pryde	Kitty Pryde reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone and setting it on a charging mat. Her foot swings past the tiny Avenger, just missing him as he makes a run for the couch. There is a thick, plush rug in front of a fireplace. A fireplace that suddenly flares into life, flames going from non-existent to full blaze in a matter of moments. There are logs in it though, not gas, so where did the flames come from- That's when he spots the dragon. Granted, to anyone else, the yellow-eyed, purple-scaled dragon is the size of a cat. To shrunken Scott, Lockheed probably looks as big as Smaug did to Bilbo. And worse, after exhaling a plume of honest to goodness fire onto the logs that instantly ignited it, the dragon turns back towards Kitty, and seems to spot the scurrying figure as the angular head looks downwards that direction.
Scott Lang	A socked foot swings by like a fuzzy wrecking ball and Scott jerks away. Getting stepped on wouldn't kill him but it wasn't comfortable either he knew, sadly, from experience. He doesn't jump around like he usually might at smaller sizes, he'd be too easy to see and besides, he couldn't jump QUITE as well as he could ant-size. So instead he flounders into the plush rug which is almost waist high like he's in some marshy grass, only for his head to jerk up at the wave of heat he feels and to find two golden eyes locked on him. Slitted, inhuman eyes.      "Are you kidding me?" he all but wheezes, no longer concerned about the woman at all. His next step towards the couch is far slower as if trying not to trigger the draconic beast into a chase. But the moment Lockheed moves Scott snaps his arm up and triggers his blaster...which promptly does nothing except make a slight hum and cause the timer in his helmet to jump up another 30 seconds. "Oh I am so going to start carrying some bear mace or something," he bemoans, risking an awkward horizontal leap towards the bottom edge of the couch, trying his best to get beneath it before the dragon gets him.
Kitty Pryde	Lockheed's head tilts to the side, much like a dog's look of curiosity. But the huge (tiny) reptile also gets more alert as it watches the curious, possibly tasty-looking figure run towards the couch. Kitty sweeps on past, heading over to a wet bar. "I don't think he's going to make it home tonight," she says aloud with an unhappy sigh. She looks over the bar and pulls out a bottle of red wine that was already open, uncorking it and pouring herself a glass. And completely missing Lockheed spread his wings and use them to help leap off the light beige bricks at the front of the fireplace, landing over on the rug nearer to the couch. He lunges again as the little two-legged figure starts to duck under it, mouth opening as reaches for the Lockheed-snack.
Scott Lang	"NO! Bad dragon! Bad!" hollers Scott as the beast comes for him, the villain from so many fairy tales. He had a helmet like a knight but was lacking a sword. Or shield. Or at this point anything usable, the discs he uses to shrink and grow things no doubt also fried by the same effect that screwed up the suit. He had to rely on speed and strength then as the dragon snaps at him, Scott finally putting his jumping to good use as he leaps over it and lands on Lockheed's back. Of course the dragon reacts to this about as well as any cat or dog might to find something suddenly on top of it. When Kitty turns back around she'll find Lockheed doing the aerial version of a bucking bronco as it flies about jerking and juking wildly in the air as it tries to throw an increasingly panicked Scott off it as he clings on for dear life. Alas scales do not provide the best handholds, but he still manages to beat the 16 seconds before he's flung off and Kitty finds something tiny flying at her...and then there's a 'plop' from her glass, a bit of red wine splashing. At least Scott's suit was already red.
Kitty Pryde	Kitty looks up, head tilting as she could have swore she heard a distant voice. Did she leave a radio on upstairs or something. She turns back around, in time to spot Lockheed playing the role of flying bucking bronco. "Lockheed, what's wrong?" she says in a worried voice. She just catches sight of something small flying her way before the splash results in her glass of wine. The twenty year old holds the glass up and takes a closer look, seeing the figure inside treading water. Er, wine. "What in the world!?" she says. And then it all makes sense to her. "Ant-Man, you followed me back," the young woman says. Her head tilts to the side. "And apparently are thirsty. I'd have poured you your own glass you know?" she tells him. She reaches a finger down inside that he can grasp and be pulled out, and set on the wet bar. If so, a small towel is grabbed and set nearby as well.
Scott Lang	He wasn't drowning, the helmet's filtration system still operational able to pull oxygen from air and liquid alike. Thankfully that was built it seemed with more than a few failsafes to make sure the Ant-Man didn't die gasping for air because a battery ran out. But he was still far from happy with the situation as red wine splashes up over the eyeholes of his helmet and he finds his target he'd been oh so stealthily tracking staring right at him.      "Would you believe I'm a figment of your imagination?!" he calls out as loudly as he can. Filters working, check. Helmet speakers, not so check, relying on just the power of his voice which was a squeaky thing at best like this. He hesitates a moment as her finger lowers, still harboring a bit of paranoia, but he was out of options right now and for another "5:14" according to his helmet timer. Finally he grabs on and lets himself be carried to the wet bar, muttering under his breath as he towels himself off.      With a faint huff she can see his shoulders rise and fall as he tries to recover what pride he has left and points a finger up at her, his shoulders squared up. "That's right, I'm Ant-Man. An Avenger! So you had best start talking about what you know or there's going to be trouble Missy!" It might take a moment to realize he's trying to be intimidating. At two inches tall. With a voice like a chipmunk and smelling strongly of wine as she towers over him. He wasn't winning on stealth or power this night.
Kitty Pryde	Kitty's lips draw into a wry grin as Ant-Man calls out to her at first. "Usually when I'm imagining men they are a bit... taller," she comments to him. Kitty motions over to where there's a photo of herself with a taller blond man a few years older than she. Also, he has white feathered wings. And is fairly famous, Warren Worthington, the billionaire owner of Worthington Industries. Also one of the X-men, which many Avengers might be aware of, but not necessarily all the newer ones. Kitty leans back against the back of the bar as Ant-Man towels himself off. "What I know is in the note I left you," she tells him, crossing her arms. "I noted some oddities on the dark web, and pulled on some threads. Threads that also had a few traces of the Avengers looking into them. Which led me to you," she tells him. "I'm Kitty Pryde. One of the X-men." She reaches out and offers him her finger, apparently for a handshake.
Scott Lang	"Oh...oh...shoot," Scott lets out as the last hope of him finding an evil lair goes up in smoke. Speaking of which had him casting an eye about for Lockheed, the dragon thankfully keeping a distant eye on him now as it somehow managed to look surly despite mostly immobile facial features. The speakers down Scott reaches up and removes the helmet, breathing stuffy but manageable in short bursts, and far easier to talk with the speakers offline. "Yea well I don't usually go breaking into women's homes either. If you're going to leave weird creepy messages on my voicemail you could at least add 'I'm a friend' or something," Scott suggests trying to at least shift SOME of the blame onto her as he reaches out. His tiny hand palms her fingertip, the ridges of her fingerprint actually something he can feel even with the glove, but he doesn't try to grip. It was easy to pinch at this size with normal strength. Letting go he looks around the penthouse again as he steps up to the edge of the bar and notes, "This has still somehow been the most sane part of this whole investigation since I got started though. Even with the dragon," he admits as he twirls the helmet in his hands and looks briefly down inside it to check the timer readout again. Almost ready.
Kitty Pryde	"What, and make it too easy on you?" Kitty teases gently. "I didn't really have the time to dig into this deeper so figured I'd just hand it off to you and, ah, not get too involved," she tells him. With a quick blush for some reason. It had been intended as just a tiny hack of the Avenger's database to look up something. Admittedly, as much for the challenge as anything. And a great intellectual challenge it had been. She'd been in the Avenger's system for all of 7 seconds when some system administrator named 'Jarvis' had sent a polite message and severed her connection. So, she figured giving them a tiny bit of space would be best, just in case he'd traced her somehow. Kitty clears her throat, as the thought passes through it. "So, yes, I'm Kitty. And you've already met Lockheed, I think," she says. "Do you want a glass? Or something else to drink?" she asks.
Scott Lang	"Well, just make sure you're more careful here on out young lady. You need to leave dangerous stuff like this to professionals. We just took out a whole coven of vampires linked to this thing down in Argentina, it's no laughing matter," Scott still trying his best to sound like a serious professional. Leaving out the part about the vampires being geriatric Nazis who'd been turned in their 70's and 80's. By now she might be wondering why he hasn't grown any larger, still twiddling his helmet between his hands nervously, his eyes more often than not on Lockheed.      "Scott by the way if you didn't know. Not really a secret. And uh, no, I'm good. It's not easy to drink when I'm at this scale without filtering and I'm kinda...stuck for another couple minutes. Think your jacket has some hellacious static cling or something going on there," he muses as if a static shock was what caused this. Thick socks and a plush rug, it made sense in his mind, one could work up a hell of a zap that way. Trying to take his mind off the fact there was a dragon eyeing him like a chewtoy he wanders the wetbar some, tucking the helmet under one arm as he plucks a cocktail toothpick from a small jar of them and waves it about like a blade. "Could maybe use a sword to carry, starting to realize I need some backups I think. Especially if dragons are going to start being a thing."
Kitty Pryde	Lockheed gives a little flap of his wings and zooms over, a very agile and quick flyer. Though thankfully he just lands on Kitty's shoulder and nuzzles his head against her cheek. She reaches up and ruffles her fingers over his head. "He breathes fire, so probably wouldn't want to try to stick him with it if you did," Kitty says to Scott. "And far as I know he's the only one. On Earth anyway. We met up with each other off-planet. And he stowed away on the Shi'ar ship we came back on," she explains. Maybe she is one of the X-men, the way she talks about having been off faring in space like that. The young woman's head tilts to the side slightly and she looks at Scott more closely. "Oh, is your power from a device? If so... you must have had my coat pass through it when I phased, I'm guessing? It wreaks havoc on electronics. Affects circuitry and hard drives and RAM pretty bad. I've killed more cell phones accidentally than you'd believe," She tell shim with a soft chuckle. "So, ah... are you... stuck like that? Need me to call someone?" she offers.
Scott Lang	Scott clearly tenses as the dragon flies over, adopting a sword stance that he'd, probably seen in a movie rather than actually been trained in by the looks of it. A wooden sword versus a fire-breathing dragon, he was setting himself up for a short fight as Kitty confirms. "Aliens. Yea I did that once already too. Didn't get to bring any critters back though. And not looking to try going up there again anytime soon." If anything made him more nervous than dragons though it was the shame of her calling someone to come get him like he was a lost child. "NO! No no no, I'm fine! It's almost rebooted! It's tough stuff! It's fine!" As he says it in fact something in the helmet dings and lights up and Scott's face with it. "That'd be it now! Coming up!" he squeaks cheerfully as he tosses the helmet back on his head.      It was awkward talking to someone when you were the size of a bug, finally he'd feel like a grown man again as he leaps off the wetbar and hits the grow button. The smell of red wine grows overpoweringly strong as the stains expand with him, but with an odd ZWOOP suddenly Scott is the tallest one in the room. Most mature, probably not. He taps the side of his helmet which retracts automatically this time and wears a somewhat cockeyed grin on his face at last. "Right so uh, I'll head back to the park and you, remember this is a covert operation. Very hush hush. So uh, please don't tell anyone I snuck into your place? For national security?" he pleads. Yes, the safety of the world was what he was worried about, not his reputation. It's only after a moment he realizes he's also still holding the toothpick, now a 4 foot long wooden spike with a bit of colored tape on one end as most cocktail toothpicks would have. He stares at it a moment in confusion before holding it out to her. "Oh and here, this is yours..."
Kitty Pryde	Kitty watches the transformation, intrigued on many levels. "I'm going to have to talk to Hank McCoy about how you do that," she says with a grin. She takes the offered giant toothpick. "Wow, this is... ah, great. I know just who to give it to, too," she says with a laugh. It's just going to show up in Rogue's room, with a tiny olive skewered on the end of it. The young woman says, "There's an elevator over here, will take you down. You might get some stares in the costume. We normally fly in and out if we're not in civvies," she explains with a motion towards a door that leads out onto a balcony. With a beautiful hot tub that can be enjoyed with a view of the city. "Good luck with your investigation. If you need any help on the computer side of things, it's kind of a specialty of mine. Just let me know," she tells him. "Thor and Janet have my number."
Scott Lang	"Yeah hey great, thanks! I mean it! You ever need someone to get the remote out from under the couch without frying it you know who to call right?" he jests, glancing aside at the platform with the hot tub, his heart sinking. He was so proud of his recent home reno he'd finished up...and it all probably cost as much as that tub. Or less. Why had he felt more self-confident just cause he was bigger again. "I'll just get going then. Call you if we need ya but, we're the Avengers. We got this," Scott assures with a thumbs up that looks as hokey as it feels. From there she gets to watch him fumble with the door locks a second or two before he heads out, the sound of him heading right down the hall...before the sound of booted feet heading left where the elevator actually lays. One can only hope his sense of direction is better at finding his way back to the dead drop.