The white walls of the S.H.I.E.L.D. base seemed to close in on me, too bright, too clean, too fragile. It was all wrong. My mind kept drifting back to the void, back to *him*—to the end. Galactus. I could still feel his gaze, like he had stared into my very soul, stripped it bare, and cast it aside as something insignificant. I was nothing to him.

But that's what made it worse.

He didn't care. He didn't need to. Galactus didn't rage, didn't gloat. He just…*was*. And if he came here, if he saw our world, he wouldn't hesitate. He wouldn't even blink before wiping us out.

I didn't want to die again.

I squeezed my eyes shut, the weight of it all bearing down on me. I'd faced death before, too many times. I thought I knew fear. But this? This was different. This wasn't about some terrorists, or business rivalries, or even surviving in a cave. This was about everything—about life, existence itself.

If he comes, we all die.*

I couldn't let that happen. Not again. I couldn't just sit back and let the end come for me. The thought of death—true, final death—made my chest tighten, my breath quicken. My heart pounded against my ribs, almost as if it remembered the shrapnel I'd just escaped. As if it was reminding me how close I had already come to losing everything.

But I had survived. I was still here, and that meant something. I had to make it mean something.

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. The fear was still there, gnawing at the edges, but something else was growing now. An idea. A desperate, urgent idea.

I had to stop him.*

I had to do something. *Build something.* I didn't care if it seemed impossible. That's what they'd said about Tony in the movies before, wasn't it? That no one could escape the cave, that no one could create an arc reactor small enough to fit in their chest. But I did it too. I built my way out of hell once before—maybe I could do it again.

If there was even the smallest chance, I had to try. I couldn't just sit here, waiting for the end, it was my responsibility. If Galactus was real, then there was no more running from it, no more pretending the universe was safe and orderly. The universe didn't care. Galactus didn't care.

But I did.

There was no time to waste. It didn't matter if this fear seemed irrational or if it felt too big for me to handle. I *had* to handle it. There had to be a way. There had to be something I could build, some defense, some weapon. Something.

The Avengers, the FF, the X-Men, S.H.I.E.L.D. None of them were ready for this, The Avengers aren't even a thing yet. Hell, they didn't even know. But I did. I had seen him. I had felt the inevitability of his power. The death of worlds. The death of everything.

I couldn't let that happen.

If I wanted to survive—if I wanted anyone to survive—I had to prepare. I had to plan. Even if it seemed impossible. Even if it felt like a fool's errand.

I didn't want to die again. Not like this. Not at the hands of a god that didn't care about us. My hands clenched into fists as I stood up, a new fire burning in my veins. I wasn't just supposed to be Iron Man anymore.

I was humanity's last line of defense.

"I have to build…" I whispered to myself, the words more of a promise than a plan. "I have to build something that can stop him." Yinsen looked at me confused but said nothing.

My mind raced, fragments of ideas sparking and flaring like wildfire. A suit? A weapon? A defense grid? The possibilities were endless. But I needed time. I needed resources. And most of all, I needed to believe that it mattered—that I could actually do this.

I didn't know if any of it would be enough. Maybe nothing could stop him. Maybe the end was inevitable.

But I had to try.

I'd fought my way out of death once before, and I'd do it again. Because this time, it wasn't just my life on the line. It was everyone. The whole world. The whole damn universe.

I wouldn't wait for the end to find me.

I would build my way to salvation.

I rubbed my eyes, still trying to shake off the lingering weight of sleep—or whatever that nightmare had been. The white walls of the room felt a little more real now, but the memory of Galactus was still fresh, gnawing at the back of my mind. I turned to Yinsen, who was sitting by my side, watching me with a calm, patient expression.

"Alright," I muttered, adjusting in the bed, "give it to me straight. What happened while I was out? The full story this time"

Yinsen leaned back in his chair, taking a breath before speaking. "After you collapsed, I had to drag you out of the base. You were barely conscious, in and out, and I couldn't leave you there. Then like I said before, the explosion you caused—it was enough to get S.H.I.E.L.D.'s attention. They'd been looking for you ever since the attack on the base you visited before. It wasn't long before they found us and brought us here."

Yinsen looked at me carefully, as if measuring how much more I could handle. "There's more. Someone's been waiting to speak with you. They didn't want to wake you up forcefully, so they've been monitoring your recovery. I'm not sure who exactly, but he had a bow and arrow..."

I froze, the realization hitting me before he even finished. "Bow and arrow? Wait... no way. Hawkeye?"

Yinsen gave me a curious look. "You know him?"

I leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "Yeah, I met him once at a Stark Expo. He tried to rob it... and me, actually. Almost got away with it too, using just a compound bow. S.H.I.E.L.D. ended up hiring him, and I vouched for the guy. Even told Fury through an agent that he should keep him on. I mean, it's not every day someone nearly robs a billionaire armed with only a bow and arrow."

Yinsen rose an eyebrow. "You vouched for a man who tried to rob you?"

I shrugged. "What can I say? It was impressive. He's resourceful. If anyone can pull off something like that, you either hire them or make sure they never come near you again. I chose the first option."

Before Yinsen could respond, there was a soft knock on the door. The two of us turned as it swung open, revealing none other than Clint Barton—Hawkeye himself.

He stepped in with his usual confident swagger, dressed in his signature tactical gear, the compound bow slung casually over his shoulder. His sharp blue eyes scanned the room before locking onto me. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Stark," he said, leaning against the doorframe.

I sat up straighter, feeling a strange mix of Tony's memories and my own thoughts swirling together. "Barton," I replied, trying to sound casual. "Still using that bow of yours, huh?"

Hawkeye chuckled, patting the bow on his shoulder. "Some things never change. But you? You look like you've been through hell."

"You don't know the half of it," I muttered under my breath, more to myself than to him. I could still feel the weight of the nightmare, the image of Galactus lingering in the back of my mind.

Clint's smirk faded slightly as he stepped further into the room, his eyes narrowing as he took in my appearance. "SHIELD's been on the lookout for you ever since the attack. Director Fury's been keeping tabs, but it wasn't until your little fireworks show that we were able to track you down. You caused quite the stir, Stark."

"Yeah, well," I said, trying to shake off the tension, "I've always been good at making an entrance."

Clint's gaze shifted to Yinsen briefly before returning to me. "Fury wants to see you. There's a lot we need to talk about. But first, I wanted to check in myself. You were always good at surviving... but this? Even for you, this is pushing it." Fury actually wanted to see me in person for once.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, even though my mind was racing. There was no way I could explain the nightmare—*the vision*—to anyone without sounding like I was losing it. But there was something about Clint's presence, something reassuring in the way he carried himself, that helped ground me, he was always one of my favorite heroes. Maybe it was the fact that he was just a guy with a bow, managing to keep up monsters.

And right now, I needed that kind of grounding. Because I was starting to realize I was going to need more than just survival instincts to face what was coming.

"I bet Fury's not the only one who needs to talk to me," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I've got a lot of catching up to do. And I've got plans."

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow. "Plans?"

I nodded, a sense of determination starting to settle in. "Yeah. Big ones."