Summary:
As the Battle of New York reaches its climax, the Avengers unite for the first time as a true team. Iron Man sacrifices himself by redirecting a nuclear missile through the portal to destroy the Chitauri mothership. Meanwhile, White's presence on the battlefield fades as the final wave of invaders collapse around him. He doesn't stay to celebrate. He doesn't wait for thanks. When the dust settles, he's already gone.
Smoke blanketed the sky.
A moment ago, the battle had still raged—roars, gunfire, explosions. Now, the silence was heavier than the noise had ever been.
Iron Man fell.
The Avengers ran.
And the Hulk caught him.
Tony Stark gasped back to life on the shattered pavement. Steve was the first to kneel beside him.
"You alright?" he asked.
Tony blinked up at the sky. "We're not dead?"
"Nope."
"Then I want… a shawarma."
High above, the portal sealed with a crackle of light. Thor and Loki stood together in the ruined penthouse. One defeated, one disappointed.
Below, the Chitauri dropped where they stood. Without the mothership, they crumbled—like puppets with the strings cut.
All across Midtown, agents and civilians emerged from hiding. Rescue teams flooded into the ruins.
White was gone.
No blood trail. No footprints. No signal.
Just empty space where something terrifying had stood minutes ago.
"You think he's dead?" one medic asked, surveying the impact crater from the Leviathan's fall.
"You kidding? That thing didn't kill him."
"Then where is he?"
In a side alley, three blocks from the Tower, a pale figure walked barefoot toward the harbor.
No sound. No destination.
He just walked, as if the city didn't exist behind him.
And for now, at least… no one followed.
Epilogue: Debrief
The cleanup began at dawn.
S.H.I.E.L.D. teams swept through the rubble like ants, swarming over broken buildings and shattered vehicles. Drones buzzed overhead. Trucks rolled in. Emergency crews coordinated with SHIELD medics to extract survivors, tag Chitauri tech, and document every inch of the aftermath.
Nick Fury stood atop the remains of a parking garage, watching his city bleed smoke into the morning sky.
"We got counts yet?" he asked.
Maria Hill stood beside him, tablet in hand.
"Civilians evacuated: eighty-seven percent. Confirmed casualties: lower than expected. Leviathans: neutralized. All Chitauri ground units deactivated with mothership collapse."
"And the asset?"
She hesitated. "Still no trace."
Fury said nothing. He watched the medics wheel away a civilian with minor burns, a child clutching a melted phone still recording.
Down below, someone had spray-painted a word on a half-collapsed bus:
MONSTER.
Hill followed his gaze. "The name's spreading."
"It'll stick."
"And if he comes back?"
Fury's eye narrowed. "Then we better be ready."
Elsewhere, Emma Frost stood at a makeshift operations terminal deep within the ruins of the East Wing substation. Her white blazer was untouched by ash, her hair perfectly in place.
She watched the footage loop again—White, leaping from a Leviathan, walking through fire.
She didn't smile.
She whispered, "So you're not a mystery. You're a warning."
Behind her, a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent approached, hesitant. "Ma'am, the Director requested—"
"Tell him to wait."
She pulled up the PHOTON file again.
This time, she didn't try to break the redactions.
She just stared at the timestamp.
And waited.