After a storm of calculations and theoretical breakthroughs,
Tony forced his thoughts back to the present.
With the Mark VI Armor, what he needed right now wasn't defense.
It was attack power—enough to defeat Ebony Maw · Leon and wipe out the Chitauri army.
Or at the very least—
A way to break free.
The former was unrealistic. Even at full strength, his mental capacity wouldn't sustain that level of output.
So Tony decisively shifted his focus to the latter.
But when it came to raw destructive force—
The moment he thought I need more firepower, his super-genius mind immediately produced an answer.
And the answer carried an unsettling sense of inevitability.
Full mastery over the strong nuclear force would allow one to casually assemble a nuclear weapon by hand.
But electromagnetism—
If pushed far enough—
Could achieve something similar.
Collide atoms under an intense magnetic field.
Force fusion.
Trigger a thermonuclear strike.
In essence—brute force physics.
At his peak, Tony might have dared attempt it.
But now?
His mental reserves were nearly exhausted. He couldn't generate a magnetic field of sufficient intensity.
And worse—
The method was untested.
He couldn't guarantee he wouldn't kill himself.
Or everyone else.
Think!
Think faster!
What can I do right now?
He looked toward the direction Hawkeye had flown.
Toward the incoming nuclear missile.
Time was running out.
Global Livestream
Arcee's broadcast had become eerily quiet.
Split-screen footage now showed two scenes simultaneously:
On one side—Hawkeye.
On the other—Ebony Maw · Leon and the bound Avengers.
"The nuke is inbound. Who can still save New York?"
"Hawkeye?"
"But even if he intercepts it, the blast wave alone could devastate the city…"
"To those about to die—begin praying."
"Pray for salvation. Or for heaven."
The chat scrolled relentlessly.
Speculation filled the feed.
"Is he going to shoot it down before it reaches the city?"
"No way."
Then the answer appeared on-screen.
Manhattan – Western Edge
Hawkeye's stolen Chitauri chariot hovered near the edge of Manhattan, above the Atlantic coastline.
In the distance—
The nuclear strike jet from the Helicarrier had already launched its payload.
A streak cut across the sky.
"Nuclear missile away. Impact in two minutes thirty seconds."
The jet banked and turned back.
Hawkeye narrowed his eyes.
He slowly rose to his feet atop the moving chariot, bracing against violent wind resistance.
From his quiver—
He drew his final explosive arrow.
Draw.
Hold.
Aim.
He exhaled slowly.
"My God…"
"No—Laura… kids… you stay safe."
His focus sharpened beyond anything he had ever known.
The world narrowed to a single point.
The missile.
Then—
New intel crackled through his comm.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Helicarrier
"Sir!" Maria Hill rushed to Fury's side. "Another nuclear jet is approaching New York from the western seaboard!"
"What?!" Fury snapped. "We locked down every nuclear launch system under our jurisdiction!"
"Not ours," Hill said grimly.
"Department of Defense."
Fury's jaw tightened.
"When we asked for reinforcements, they stalled. Now they're the fastest ones to flip the table."
"Barton, do you copy?"
Before Fury could continue—
A new voice cut in.
"This is War Machine. I'll handle that jet."
"Colonel Rhodes?!" Fury demanded. "How are you—"
"No time. I've got visual."
Atlantic Airspace
Using Stark-designed comm protocols, Rhodey maintained contact with both the Helicarrier and the Avengers.
Tony and Clint both heard him.
Rhodey accelerated, matching the jet's velocity in parallel flight.
The pilot stared at the armored figure outside the cockpit.
"Tony Stark?!"
"Yeah," Rhodey muttered dryly inside the helmet. "That's me. Totally."
"Relax. This'll only hurt a little."
He smashed through the polycarbonate canopy in one brutal punch and yanked the stunned pilot out.
Carrying him upward, Rhodey disengaged from the aircraft.
Even pilotless, the jet continued toward New York. Launch protocol irreversible.
Rhodey dumped the pilot onto a nearby carrier deck.
Then he accelerated—
Mach 10.
He overtook the jet.
At safe distance—
His right arm deployed a familiar payload.
The "Ex-Wife" missile.
"Go on, sweetheart," he muttered. "Make it count."
The missile streaked forward—
And collided head-on with the incoming nuclear jet.
BOOM—!!!!!
A mushroom cloud surged thousands of meters into the sky.
The shockwave blasted War Machine backward despite the distance.
When Rhodey stabilized and looked back—
Even a decorated Air Force colonel stood stunned.
"Holy… hell."
A vast hollow cavity churned in the ocean where the explosion had ripped apart the airspace. Seawater rushed inward. Tidal surges spread outward.
And they had planned to detonate that over Manhattan.
Rhodey didn't hesitate.
One missile down.
One still inbound.
He turned westward—full burn.
"Barton, I'm on my way!"
"Colonel," Clint replied quietly, "there's no time."
From his vantage point, the missile was nearly overhead.
If he didn't intercept it now, it would reach the city.
Casualties beyond counting.
"Thanks," Clint said softly. "For standing up for us."
Rhodey fell uncharacteristically silent.
Then forced a grin into his voice.
"Don't die. I'll buy you a drink."
"Screw you."
Clint chuckled.
He had a wife.
The chariot stabilized in midair above the western coastline.
Ahead—
One nuclear missile.
Behind him—
A million lights.
The city.
Homes.
Families.
The choice required no hesitation.
The remaining enemies—
He left to that missing, reckless captain somewhere out there.
"Come back, Leon," Clint murmured unconsciously.
"Laura and the kids… I'm trusting you."
He didn't realize the open comm channel carried his words across S.H.I.E.L.D., the Avengers network—
And somehow, through Arcee's broadcast—
To the world.
Silence fell.
Across New York.
Across the livestream.
Then one message appeared in the chat:
"Go, archer uncle! Shoot it down!"
Another.
Then hundreds.
Then thousands.
The words flooded the screen.
As if belief itself could become strength.
Clint didn't know why—
But suddenly, something surged within him.
Courage.
Resolve.
Power beyond himself.
He smiled.
And loosed a shooting-star arrow.
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