Stiles glanced at the thunder-god standing there in a fury, then at the pair of twitching legs sticking out of the floor.
"Sorry," he shrugged, wearing an innocent expression. "He yelled at me."
"You—!" Thor raised Mjolnir, lightning crackling along the hammerhead.
"Thor, stand down!" Steve Rogers stepped in immediately.
"Steve," Thor growled, electricity dancing across his grip, "he attacked my brother!"
"Maybe take a look outside," Steve said coldly. "How many people did your brother kill today?"
"…He's adopted," Thor muttered, lowering his hammer and awkwardly stepping aside.
Steve turned back to Stiles, gratitude evident in his voice. "Friend, we appreciate the help. But we need to know—who are you? Are you one of Nick Fury's assets?"
Stiles turned, a warm, approachable smile on his face. "Just doing my part, Captain Rogers."
"You know me?" Steve blinked.
"Of course." Stiles walked over and extended his hand. "Steve Rogers. Captain America. World War II hero. Your story inspired generations."
Steve shook his hand. It was warm, firm—radiating a very convincing sense of righteousness.
"I'm—" Stiles began to introduce himself.
Suddenly, Nick Fury's urgent voice cut into everyone's earpieces.
"Stark, do you copy?"
"What is it?" Tony Stark replied.
"Those idiots launched a nuke! It's headed straight for Manhattan!"
Tony's blood ran cold. "Time to impact?!"
"Less than three minutes! Payload will level Midtown!"
"I've got it!" Tony didn't hesitate. He blasted out the window. "JARVIS, divert all remaining power to the thrusters!"
"Tony, are you insane?!" Steve shouted.
"No choice!" Tony seized the missile midair and forced it upward toward the portal. "JARVIS—tell Pepper—"
"What a touching sacrifice," Stiles's voice suddenly murmured beside him.
Tony nearly jumped out of his armor. He turned his head—and saw the Superman cosplayer flying backward, effortlessly keeping pace with him.
"Tony Stark," Stiles said gently, "you're a hero. You shouldn't die here."
"You—what?"
"The people still need you."
"And me?" Stiles smiled with solemn resolve—the kind of smile meant for history books. "I was born for this."
"You're crazy!" Tony shouted. "You'll die!"
"Someone has to," Stiles replied calmly.
Then Tony felt the weight vanish.
"What the—?" He looked down.
The missile was gone.
The red-and-blue figure was already streaking ahead, nuclear warhead on his shoulder, accelerating toward the portal at several times Tony's top speed.
"…That cosplay Superman just stole my nuke?!" Tony gaped.
"No—!" Tony stopped at the edge of the wormhole, watching helplessly as Stiles vanished inside.
On the ground, Steve removed his helmet and stared skyward, expression heavy.
"…We owe him," he said quietly.
Deep space.
The Chitauri mothership loomed ahead.
"All right," Stiles muttered. "Drop the bomb. Go home."
As he prepared to release it, his X-ray vision swept instinctively across the ship.
Engines. Command decks. Tens of thousands of Chitauri soldiers.
Then—something else.
A sealed chamber. A massive energy barrier.
"…Kids?" Stiles froze.
Inside a biological containment bay, hundreds of unconscious human children were stacked like cargo.
"…So they weren't just invading," he whispered. "They were collecting."
His mind raced.
A hero who dies in sacrifice would earn immense popularity.
But a hero who dies, returns miraculously, and brings back a shipload of abducted children?
That wouldn't be a hero.
That would be a god.
A smile—more radiant than all his previous smiles combined—spread across his face.
"This is a gift."
Time was short.
He released the nuke—and slammed straight through the mothership's hull.
Alarms screamed.
Ignoring incoming fire, his heat vision carved a blazing corridor through the ship as he charged forward.
He reached the containment bay.
"Open."
His fist smashed into the energy shield.
BZZZT—!
Lightning exploded between fist and barrier.
Not enough.
"AAAAAH—!!!"
His eyes burned crimson. Heat vision and raw strength focused on a single point.
CRACK.
The barrier shattered.
He ripped the entire life-support pod free from the floor.
"Hang on, kids."
Pushing the massive container, Stiles turned and blasted back toward the hole he'd made—
Just as annihilating light engulfed the ship behind him.
-----
New York. Beneath the portal.
"He's been in there too long…" Natasha Romanoff murmured, lips tight.
"…He's not coming back," Tony said softly, hovering in the air.
Steve clenched his fists, staring upward.
At the final moment—just before the portal closed—
"Look! What's that?!" an agent shouted.
A streak of fire burst from the wormhole.
It was him.
And he was pushing something enormous.
Stiles shot through as the portal snapped shut behind him.
The remaining Chitauri forces instantly lost power and fell from the sky.
The war was over.
"He did it…" Tony breathed.
"Wait—" Steve's eyes widened. "He's unconscious!"
The massive pod dragged Stiles downward, gravity taking hold.
"Tony—now!"
"I'm on it!"
But then—
Stiles's eyes snapped open.
Commit to the performance, he told himself.
He "struggled" midair, barely stabilizing, slowing his descent inch by inch—then landed in a classic, awe-inspiring Superman-style touchdown.
BOOM—!!!
Grand Central Plaza.
Survivors. Emergency crews. Swarming reporters.
Every camera. Every eye.
Stiles lowered to one knee, setting the container down with exaggerated care.
He "forced" himself upright.
A reporter's voice trembled as she asked the question the whole world was holding its breath for.
"W-who are you?"